The Sunne in Splendour: A Novel of Richard III (94 page)

ously. "But you're not that drunk, and we both do know it. Now get hold of yourself before we do start to attract attention!"
Thomas blinked; his head began to clear. Focusing on Richard for the first time, he suddenly realized who it was who'd come between him and Buckingham. With recognition came horror at what he'd almost done. Holy Jesus, it be bad enough to have come to blows with Buckingham, but this! If Ned were ever to know. . . . That thought was enough to sober Thomas rapidly; he looked about hastily to make sure
Richard was right and no one was watching.
As soon as he felt Thomas's muscles slacken, Richard let him go, stepped back. Thomas straightened, started to move away, and then said in a very low voice, "I suppose ... I suppose you'll want to tell your brother about. . . about all this?"
Thomas had his mother's fair skin as well as her temper, and any strong emotion scorched his face with quick color. Now he flushed deeply, having come as close as he could to asking a favor from a man he hated.
Richard hadn't thought to do so, but he saw no reason to ease Thomas's mind. "If you're asking me not to, I can make you no promises." Adding with a touch of malice, "I should think you'd be more concerned with what Buckingham might say. He, after all, be the one you did most sorely offend."
Thomas's alarm was almost comical. Leaving him to deal with it as best he could, Richard walked away.
Stopping a servant, he questioned the man about Edward, but encountered only apologetic ignorance as to his brother's whereabouts. He was turning to exit the chamber when he felt a light touch on his arm.
Blue-grey eyes the exact shade as his own were regarding him with flirtatious wonderment that was contrived, but not entirely so.
"I've always wanted to witness a miracle. But I think that was as close as I'll ever get, to see Thomas
Grey back down like that! Who might you be ... Merlin?"
By now Richard had recognized her as the girl Thomas had been trying so hard to charm. He felt an instinctive prejudice against her for that, found himself judging her by the company she kept. Nor was she making a favorable impression on him now. The face upturned to his was a pretty one, but her mouth was painted a bold bright red unknown in nature, her eyebrows had been plucked in fashionably extreme arches, and her perfume clung to her hair, her gown, the exposed hollow of her breasts, enveloping them both in a cloud of lavender. He found the fragrance overpowering, cloyingly sweet, and would have moved away had she not kept her hand on his arm.

"I do want to thank you, sir." As she spoke, the blue eyes were studying him in unabashed, unhurried appraisal, taking in the jeweled rings, the soft Spanish leather boots, the fur-lined cloak. Instinctively amending her mode of address, she smiled at him, said, "It was most kind of you to intervene as you did, my lord. I was truly fearful we were to have a brawl here in the King's very chambers. Had you not taken
Tom in hand . . . and then, when I saw him reach for his dagger, Lady Mary forfend!"
"You needn't have worried. Thomas Grey is not one to draw a dagger if there be any chance some of the blood spilled might be his."
She gave a startled laugh. "Jesu, but you are blunt-spoken, aren't you? Oh, I know Tom is not much liked at court, but he's not such a bad sort; in truth, he's not. That brawl with Buckingham now ... he was very neatly goaded into it."
Richard was skeptical. "That wasn't the way it looked to me."
She nodded triumphantly, as if he'd just proved her point. "Exactly! My lord Buckingham does have a flair for that, for drawing blood with a smile! That was what he did with Tom, telling him to take care, that poaching in a royal forest be a hanging offense."
"Why should that have provoked Grey into making such a fool of himself?"
"It be clear you're not much at court. It was me Buckingham was baiting Tom about. . . . I'm Jane
Shore."
She said it as if it should mean something to him. The name was vaguely familiar, but for the moment the association eluded him. Seeing that, she gave him a pitying smile, explained patiently and with a certain naive pride, "I'm the King's mistress. Now do you see why Tom was so touchy?"
With that, Richard remembered where he'd heard her name. Veronique had come back from London last year with some startling gossip, claiming that Edward had gotten the Pope to grant a divorce for one of his mistresses on the grounds of her husband's impotence. So this then was Jane Shore. This was the woman Thomas Grey was lusting for. Ned's favorite bedmate. Jesus!
"I suppose then, that you'd be the one to ask," he said, with irony | that was neither friendly nor flattering.
"Is he here?"
She nodded, tossed her head in the general direction of the closed| bedchamber door. "In there. He was feeling greensick . . . too much| madeira."
Knowing his brother had always had a notoriously steady head drink, Richard frowned, looked about him at the crowded chamber. Fc the first time, he noticed Will Hastings, sprawled in one of the recess window seats. But even as he recognized Will, he realized there was no

point in approaching him. Will was genially drunk, holding on his lap a girl who looked to be sixteen, seventeen at most. Richard watched Will fondle the girl, watched the drunken bear cub weaving in erratic circles, and knew suddenly that he would not wait for Ned, that he did not want to talk to him here, not tonight.
"You don't much like what you see, do you?"
He started, had almost forgotten Jane Shore was still standing beside him. "No," he said curtly. "No, I do not."
Jane was accustomed to being the center of male attention, to having men look upon her with desire, and it was gradually becoming apparent to her that this man did not. But the resentment she felt now was not on her own behalf, it was indignation that he should dare to criticize Edward, even indirectly, and she said with sudden heat, "You need not share the King's pleasures, but I think it rather presumptuous that you should pass judgment on them!"
Richard stared at her and then laughed abruptly as the ludicrousness of his position struck him, that he should find himself debating morality with his brother's harlot. He was amused that she should be so protective of Ned, but he found it faintly touching, too, and she rose a bit in his estimation. For the first time, he thought he could comprehend why she had such appeal for Ned; she and Elizabeth were as unlike as any two women could be.
"You think a King does not need to be able to relax, to be able to put his troubles from his mind if only for a few hours? And now more than ever, what with the strain of these past weeks, with his own brother to be charged with treason. ..."
Richard's amusement chilled with the shock of hearing George's plight discussed so casually. "So you do know about that, too."
She looked at him in some surprise. "Why, it's been common knowledge at court for some weeks now!"
Yes, Richard thought bitterly. All had known. He alone had remained in ignorance. He alone Ned had not bothered to tell.
edward jerked the door open. His head throbbed with a dull ache impossible to ignore, and a mouthwash of myrrh and honey had proven to be of marginal use against the sour taste filling his mouth, curdling his tongue.
Thomas materialized at his elbow, tousle-haired, feverish. Noting without interest his stepson's agitation, Edward reached over to claim his cup, only to shove it back after one gagging swallow. How could any man choose malmsey of his own free will? And yet malmsey was the drink George most favored! How like George that even his taste in wines was

noxious. But why must he think of this now? Must George intrude upon his every thought tonight? He turned abruptly to Thomas, said testily, "Why are all these people milling about like so many sheep? And where's Jane?"
Thomas shrugged. "That I'd not know. The last I saw of her, she was off alone in a corner with your brother."
"Dickon?" Edward's surprise was readily apparent. "Here tonight? Be you sure?"
"Quite sure." Too embittered to guard his tongue, Thomas plunged ahead recklessly. "As to whether they're still here, that I can't tell you."
"Jane and Dickon?" Edward smiled coldly. "Once before, Tom, I told you I didn't suffer fools gladly. I'd think on that if I were you."
He didn't wait for Thomas to respond, caught the blue of Jane's gown and moved toward it. Jane saw him before Richard did. As she smiled, gave him a loving look of welcome, he drawled, "Well, you've chosen a right secluded corner for yourselves, haven't you? I trust I'm not intruding?"
Jane's mouth dropped. Mother of God, he was truly in his cups tonight! "My dearest Lord," she stammered, "surely you . . . you don't think ..."
Richard was in no mood for games, not tonight. "Let it be, Ned," he said impatiently. "Can't you see you're frightening her?"
Jane's mouth stayed open, her earrings jangling wildly as she turned to stare at Richard. Never had she heard anyone speak so familiarly to Edward, not even Will. And suddenly she realized who Richard was, who he had to be, and she went hot with embarrassment.
Edward was laughing, slipped an arm around her waist. "Did you; truly think I was serious, sweetheart?
Well, Dickon, this be a surprise. l| didn't expect you in London for nigh on a fortnight."
"I need to talk to you, Ned."
"I would hope so; we haven't seen each other in more than six! months! To get this man out of Yorkshire, Jane, be like pulling teeth!! What he does find to fascinate him on those northern moors, I'll neve fathom, but-"
"Now, Ned. It be urgent."
Jane was no longer listening. How could she have made such a fo of herself? "You know little of court life," she'd told him, called him ] sumptuous! Oh, Lord! But after a moment or so, her sense of hv carried the day and she stifled a giggle with difficulty. It truly was funnyi after all, and Ned would likely find it hilarious. Nor was her vanity qu so pricked by Richard's indifference, for all did know he doted upon wife. So caught up was she in these thoughts that Edward had to say he name twice before she realized he was speaking to her.

"Well? Be you coming or not?"
So accustomed was she to indulging his whims that it never occurred to her to question him, and she made haste to follow him into the bedchamber. Once there, however, she suddenly wished she'd not been so quick to obey. Richard did not want her there. He was looking at her with such disfavor that she blushed, wanting to make excuses for her presence, to plead Edward's insistence.
Edward alone appeared at ease. "Come here, sweetheart," he directed, patting the bed. "It be good to have you back, Dickon, but must you be pacing about like a cat on the prowl? Sit down and tell me about your journey. You did bring your Anne, I daresay? Where are you settled, at Baynard's Castle?"
"No. Crosby Place."
Edward seemed not to notice the terseness of the response. "Ah, yes, I did forget. You be familiar with
Crosby Place, aren't you, Jane? You know . . . that enormous manor house in Bishopsgate Street. My brother did lease it last year from Crosby's widow, and from what I've heard tell of it, he's living in greater luxury than I am!"
"A most beautiful house, in truth," Jane agreed politely, then gave Edward an imploring look. "My love, I
feel I should not be here. It be plain His Grace of Gloucester does have matters to discuss in private. ..."
"She's right, Ned, I do."
Before Edward could respond, Jane was on her feet and Richard moving to hold the door open for her.
Briefly, Edward was tempted to call her back, but almost at once, he rejected the idea; Jane could at best only delay the inevitable.
Richard closed the door with care. "I understand you do mean to try George on a charge of high treason," he said quietly, almost conversationally.
This wasn't the approach Edward had been expecting. "Yes," he said warily. "I do."
"I see. . . . And I suppose it somehow slipped your mind? Or didn't you think it important enough to mention to me?"
"Sheathe your sarcasm, Dickon." Edward sat up on the bed, said somewhat defensively, "I did mean to tell you once you were back in London." He busied himself now in positioning pillows for his back. "How did you find out?"
"We did stop at Berkhampsted on our way south."
That gave Edward pause, but he didn't let it show on his face. "I re- 8ret that Ma Mere must be grieved by this," he said dispassionately, "but I had no choice."
"Look, Ned, I'm not defending what George has done. I'd be the

last man to do that. But a charge of high treason ... I don't understand. Why now? You did forgive
George his past betrayals, forgive what was well nigh unforgivable. To charge him with treason now. . . .
Well, it be like using a crossbow to bring down a sparrow. It just doesn't make sense to me. Surely his treason with Warwick was far more dangerous than any wine-soaked schemes he does concoct these days!"
"Tell that to Ankarette Twynyho," Edward snapped, and Richard caught his breath.
"That's not fair," he protested. "You know I do feel that woman's death was no less than murder. But you know, too, that George is not accountable for all he does. We've both known that for some time, Ned."
"What are you suggesting? That I should do nothing while he does make mockery of the laws of this realm? Am I to allow him to amuse himself by committing murder? Tell me, just what would you have me do, Dickon, turn a blind eye to his crimes and leave his judgment to God?"
Richard was taken aback; it wasn't often that he'd seen Edward flare up like this. "Of course that's not what I'd have you do," he said slowly. "Did I raise any objections when you did send him to the Tower last June? That was justified, had to be done. I just cannot say the same for a charge of treason. Not now." Richard hesitated, said, "Have you not thought of Ma Mere and Meg? You and I both have reasons a hundredfold to mistrust George, and I'll tell you frankly that whatever affection I did once have for him be totally gone, be six years dead. But that's not true for Ma Mere. She-"
"I don't care to discuss this further," Edward said abruptly. "I've heard you out, and at an hour when I'd have told anyone else to go to the Devil. But we be accomplishing nothing. You say a charge of treason is unwarranted, unnecessary? Well, to me, it's more than justified, is the only action I can take. Why else do you think I'm doing it? Or is it that you think this is how I mean to amuse myself this winter? Banish boredom by bringing my brother up on a charge of treason?"
Startled, Richard shook his head. "For God's sake, Ned, what be wrong with you tonight? I didn't come here to quarrel with you. I seek only to understand your reasons, to see this with your eyes. Is that so |
much to ask of you, that you do tell me why?"
"I should think my reasons would speak for themselves. Don't expect me to give you an accounting of
George's sins; you do know them as well as I. Now if you want to stay and talk of other matters, you're more I than welcome. But if you be set upon discussing George, I must remind you that it's nigh onto midnight and you've a loving wife awaiting you at | Crosby Place."
A strained silence fell between them. "You're right," Richard said at| last. "It does grow late." At the door, he paused.