The Maiden and the Unicorn (56 page)

"I
saw,
not heard."

"
Sensed
. Why would anyone do that?"

"I cannot tell but I do not think we are private."

"This is not some excuse to avoid intimacy?"

"Intimacy?"

He sighed. "I see the thought displeases you. Come."

"Where?"

"The garderobe, lady."

Returning, he leant against the carved frieze, examining it with a sideways glance before he set the candle down beside the bed. She could never tell with Richard Huddleston whether he was trying to allay her fears because he actually believed her. She stood on the other side of the bed, dainty in the shadows, listening.

He gave a faint shake of his head and pressed his ear against the panelling. Then, with a shrug, he abandoned his investigation. "Is it against the articles of your faith to help me off with my boots?" He noted her recalcitrance. "Ah, you wish to risk being kicked during my dreams?
Please,
Margery."

His shoulder did hurt him. With charity, she came round to him, her eyes demure as she sank down gracefully and set her hand to his heel. He bit his lip and when she was done, he recognised compassion glistening in her eyes. Smiling, he snared her fingers before she could rise and with his other hand snuffed the candle out.

She heard the door later and woke swiftly but it was no enemy. Richard had left her. Following swiftly, softly, she saw him lift the latch and slide like a wraith into the other bedchamber.

* * *

Richard kept his hand across her mouth. The woman had the sense of a snail. Only the rosewater had saved her. He tensed, waiting to see if the chamber was as empty as he had thought and then slowly released his cruel grip. Moonlight streamed across an empty bed and glinted on his dagger blade. She had the wit to say nothing, rubbing where he had bruised her, glaring at him with a revived hatred. Then she remembered why they were there and forgot to be furious.

Save for an outside door onto the courtyard, the chamber was but a reflection of theirs. The frieze was identical. Richard ran his fingers across it, noting the same holes in the tracery, then he knelt, exploring the lower panels like an admiring master joiner.

To her amazement, a low small door clicked open. "Go back outside. If anyone comes, sneeze!"

Satisfying himself that she had obeyed him, he crawled into the secret room. Its air hung with the stale smell of recent occupation and a thick woollen blanket muffled the floor. There were viewing holes into each chamber, part of the carving.

Margery sneezed.

He emerged into the passageway, tousled and panicky, in such haste that, clasping her hand to her mouth, she staunched a laugh. "I am sorry. It was a real sneeze."

"Go back to bed before I
really
strangle you!"

Richard slid back beside her a few moments later. He neither told her that a splinter of wood had snared a silken, azure thread nor reminded her of the King of France's sleeves at supper.

* * *

"I confess I cannot become used to this wretched change of allegiance," Ankarette muttered as Margery returned her belongings to her original sleeping quarters that afternoon, having vowed not to spend another night in the panelled bedchamber. "Your Master Huddleston seems to have no problem with changing sides."

Margery was well aware that the Earl of Oxford had just clapped her husband on the shoulder in the
grande salle
and that Richard had broken his fast with two of the Earl's henchmen.

"You think that if my lord father were to make a dog the King of England, Richard Huddleston would immediately produce a bone for it?"

Ankarette chose not to answer, drawing her aside. "What were you two about down by the river anyway?"

"Trying to translate
Piers Plowman
into French for itinerant pedlars." Margery bit her lip. "Your pardon, my dear Ankarette, I am so used to fencing with my husband that I draw my sword at every opportunity. I slept ill."

"And I suppose I really should stir you no further but..."

"Ankarette, I loathe it when you just hint at something curious. Besides, I doubt you could tell me anything new."

Tell me that I am being spied on in my own bed, that I am watched by day, that someone has just tried to kill me and I am carrying a secret that is burning me.

"I wager I can." Ankarette tumbled into the verbal hole dug for her just like she always did. "I heard your husband speaking with the Queen in the gardens this morning and they were talking about you!"

Margery tensed, not sure she wanted to hear more. "And?" she prompted, realising with a start that she was beginning to sound like Huddleston.

Ankarette looked around to see if any of the other ladies were likely to overhear them before she continued softly. "I could hear every word. They were speaking in English despite the fact your husband reckons himself so fluent in her tongue. So where was I? Ah yes, the Queen Margaret says as how King Louis has been telling her about you spending time in his library. You are strange sometimes, Margery." She paused, studying her friend afresh. "Anyway, the Queen says, 'This wife of yours must be clever,
hein
?'
Hein!
I like that word."

"Ankarette!"

"Well, Master Huddleston was
tres nonchalant.
'No, not noticeably', he replies, cool as you please. But he tells her grace as how you took lessons with the ladies Isabella and Anne and then were sent to be a nun."

"Well, that's true. Where is this leading?"

"The Queen says, 'Afore, I have been told your wife was discovered in embarrassing circumstances.' Margery, you nev—"

"Go on. At last you have reached the interesting part."

"There was a long silence and then he says, 'Yes, that's true, madam, but it was a silly device of the Duchess to make me set my wife aside.' But then the Queen answered something like, 'I will be blunt, monsieur. Whether you admit to your wife betraying you is your affair but I do not desire the future Princess of Wales to be attended by a wanton who has lain with the Yorkist usurper and all his brothers.'"

"Well, my reputation has certainly grown. How did Huddleston answer that?"

"He promised her he would make your sides ache if you displeased her in any way. And then he said that you and your sister had acted foolishly and of all the women in the world, she, Margaret, was the embodiment of all manly virtues in a woman's body, his rightful queen and his true mistress. I doubt he meant that carnally, of course, for she is too proud to lie with anyone less than a duke. Then she asked him if you were the Duchess's confidante and he said you were like true sisters."

Anger, hot as a smith's coals, smouldered within Margery, but if her friend expected a furious outburst then she would be disappointed. "I am not disputing what you heard, Ankarette, but how did you manage to overhear so much?"

"I was walking Tristran on the leash and he stopped to munch some grass and lift his leg, sniffing around the way he does. They were on the other side of a hedge with their backs to me." She set her hand comfortingly over Margery's clenched fist. "The gossip is that Richard Huddleston has been hand in glove with Lancaster ever since he set foot in France, and he has been keeping some very odd company." She fixed her eye upon Margery. "What was your foolishness?"

"Ever to think that I had my husband's measure." Margery fingered the brooch that Ned had given her to wear as a sign her mission was fulfilled. How fortunate that yesterday's attack had forestalled her telling Richard the truth.

* * *

She had to plan. She needed to set a pattern and be patient. If all the Englishmen and mercenaries were to leave Amboise and Tours within a few days, a beginning had to be made. Margery was not going to stay a hostage to the Bitch's whims. If the Duke's message could not be passed on, then she would carry it herself, whatever the cost.

She began to send Alys every day at the same hour to light a candle for her in the church across the valley. Anne, liking the notion, paid Alys to perform the same duty for her. So, God willing, by the time the guards had become used to Alys's daily passing, they might easily mistake the mistress for the maid.

As for Richard Huddleston, if he noticed his wife had managed to avoid him for two days, he gave no sign of it even if her gaze was drawn to him like a moth to a lantern.

The truth was that she was ill-armed to deal with him. She had come so close to confiding in him and her body craved him. Yet to be near him and know he was Queen Margaret's creature was torture. When Matthew brought her a command that she was to visit Errour, it offered her no joy.

Richard Huddleston was waiting. As always now, she felt the stirring of desire at seeing him. Clad in half-armour, the black leather brigandine and the polished steel encompassing his shoulders lent him a formidable mien, enhancing his masculinity. If only she had been able to harness his strength and intelligence in her enterprise. Why did fortune have to make them enemies once she had realised how much she wanted him?

Drawing closer, she recognised the tenseness in him like a tightened lute string. He was unsmiling but at least he had removed his gauntlets to fondle his dog's ears.

She pretended loudly that this was a chance meeting but he recognised the fear and the uncertainty in her eyes as she looked at him. By Christ's blessed mercy, would this wife of his ever lower her guard and trust him?

"It seems there is nowhere I can speak to you these days without peeping Toms or brigands interrupting. You are in health, mousekin?" His probing gaze warmed as he spoke, reminding her of the fleeting moments when they had been happy in each other's company. She busied herself with pleasing Errour.

"What is it you want to say, sir?" Ice calm, was she? Perhaps that was the only way to keep the passion bridled.

Damn Edward! A thousand plagues on him for thrusting this woman into a pool of intrigue deep enough to drown them both. If only Margery could have proved to him on their wretched wedding night that she could keep a secret, then they might have worked together. Yes, and if only Louis's assassins had not murdered Badoux.

His irritation grew. "I leave Amboise within the hour."

The fingers in the dog's hair trembled as she untangled them. Richard was aware that she was trying to hide the fact his news had disconcerted her.

"I see. Then God go with you." The half-curtsey was dutiful.

His jaw tightened at such a display of chilly virtue.

"I have made a will, lady. The manors you bring as dowry shall be yours in the event of my death, whoever wins the crown. My family will take you in if you require it of them." He watched her swallow nervously, nodding, her eyes modestly upon her clasped hands. This was not like Margery but some colourless cypher of a wife. "What else? Ah yes, is there any letter you wish me to carry for you? Any delivery you want made?"

At least she looked at him now, slowly shaking her head, her face expressionless.

He held her gaze. "I believe you have a message for the King of England." The blue glance shot sideways but not before he saw the panic in them. "I want it, Margery. The sand is running out and Adéle's father is murdered for it."

"
What
?" At least the news shook some spirit into her. Disbelief distorted her features. "How do
you
know this?" Then the blue eyes widened. Had the hammer at last hit the anvil? "Are you trying to tell me that
you
are King Edward's man?"

"No, I am a cockroach crawling around this infernal kennel! Are we speaking English here? I am Gloucester's man. You wear the St Catherine wheel; you have the letter."

She was shaking. By all the Saints, he should have handled this differently but time was not with him and she was watched. The man who followed her in was talking with the kennelboys.

"No, we are not speaking English, Richard Huddleston. What is Henri Badoux to do with me?"

"He was the Yorkist agent in Amboise. My man in Tours was killed too. Our enemies are coming too close, Margery. It was King Louis who spied upon us in the bedchamber. It was Clarence who ordered us to be slaughtered. Pass the danger to me now. You have done your share and at far too high a price." He took a step towards her but she shrank back.

"You confuse me, sir. I do not understand any of this." She would have sped towards the door but he blocked her leaving. His fingers snatched off her headdress and drew her against him. The rivets upon his clothing bruised the soft flesh of her bare shoulders as his mouth sought hers.

Margery turned her face this way and that, knowing that within seconds she would be lost. His hands slid from her throat, traced her broad collar, and passed down her shoulders and over her forearms, tantalising her through the sensual fabric of her sleeves, to fasten behind her and thrust her thighs against him.

She pushed against his chest.
"Let me go
!"

His painful grip snapped round her forearms. She shivered. This fury was uncontrolled. "I am not finished with you. I will have that letter, Margery."

"
I have no letter,
you incubus!" she snarled through her teeth, trying to free herself from his swift, iron grasp.

"Have we both come this far for naught?" he hissed. "It was not needful that you understood my presence."