A Rose for the Crown: A Novel

by Anne Easter Smith

  “Hold, Molly!” Wat put his finger to her cracked lips, silencing her. “He also punishes me. ’Tis my son, too, don’t forget.”

  “’Tis punishment for our fornication!” said the distraught Molly, pushing him away.

  Kate kneeled on the other side of the bed. “Nay, Molly. God has more important things to worry over than your fornication. You and Wat conceived your child in wedlock. ’Tis I He should punish for conceiving in adultery, not you. ’Tis God’s will that He take your child. Not to punish you but to show His love by taking little Wat to heaven to be with Him.”

  Wat nodded in agreement, and it seemed to calm Molly. Kate offered Molly the hot drink, which she took with reluctance.

  “Try and feed him again, Molly.” Kate hoped to take the new mother’s mind off the incomprehensible workings of the Almighty. “It may be he is ready now.”

  Kate took the baby while Molly prepared to feed him. She put the crook of her little finger in its tiny mouth, hoping to tempt him to suck. It was then she knew the little mite had stopped breathing and was quite cold. She caught Wat’s eye, looked down at the baby and shook her head. He drew in a sharp breath that alerted Molly.

  “What be wrong?” Her voice was tinged with anger. “Tell me, Wat! Tell me!”

  Kate took charge, for Wat could not bring himself to acknowledge the truth. “God has taken little Wat, Molly. I am sorry. But see how peaceful he seems.”

  She held the baby out to Molly, who gave an anguished cry and snatched the limp bundle from Kate’s hands. Frantically she began to untie the swaddling bands.

  “They be too tight! The bands, they be too tight! You did suffocate my precious baby,” she screamed. “Help me, Wat! Help me to untie them. Mebbe there’s hope yet.”

  Wat gently took the baby from her and carefully unwrapped the infant. His calm had an effect on Molly. She did not resist him but watched while tears rolled down her cheeks and sorrow engulfed her. Kate reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “I am so sorry, Molly, so sorry,” she whispered as her own tears fell. “Try and drink a little more and rest. Wat and I will pray for the child.”

  Molly closed her eyes so that she would not have to see her baby, and only then did Kate notice that Wat’s hands were trembling.

  JACK AND MARGARET were in London for the Christmas season, and Tendring Hall was quiet. Molly recovered her strength within a few days of the birth and kept herself occupied with Katherine. Kate noticed Molly’s affection for the little girl grew daily, and it was as though she transferred the love she had saved for her own child onto Katherine. Indeed, Katherine was having trouble knowing which of the two women was her mother.

  A few days before Twelfth Night, two horsemen cantered up to Dog Kennel House. Wat was at the Hall, helping the smith forge new horseshoes, and no one greeted the two men. They dismounted and tethered their horses to the gatepost. Kate and Molly were exclaiming at Katherine’s determined steps from one pair of outstretched arms to another. They laughed as the child imitated them, holding her arms out in front of her like a sleepwalker as she tottered across the floor. Richard stood unnoticed on the threshold, watching this domestic scene, a proud smile on his face. It was Katherine who saw him first. She was so surprised that she plumped down on her bottom and stared at the stranger. Before Kate had registered who it was, Richard crossed the room and swept the child up in his arms, smothering her face with kisses.

  “Richard!” Kate’s exclamation was drowned by Katherine’s howl of terror at being picked up by a man—an unfamiliar man at that. She twisted around to seek her mother. Her screams were deafening. Richard laughed and gave her to Kate, who in turn handed her off to Molly and ran into Richard’s arms. Molly discreetly withdrew, Katherine still wailing.

  “God’s bones, Kate! Has the child never seen a man before? You would think I had taken the stick to her,” Richard said between kisses. He tried to pull her closer. “Why are you so difficult to reach—”

  “Did you not receive my letter?” Kate interrupted. “I sent you one in the autumn.”

  Richard shook his head. “Nay, Kate. Not since you wrote to tell me of George’s death. What was your news? A letter from you is always treasured, because it is so rare.” He grinned at her and then saw the swell of her gown. “Sweet Mary! Is this your news? You are with child again?” His excitement was genuine. “When? Wait . . . I think must know!”

  Kate arched one eyebrow and waited.

  “Ha! Certes, ’twas our watery tryst! ’Twas peculiarly sweet loving, was it not?”

  Kate beamed. “Aye, Richard. This Gloucester bastard, as Jack would call it, must have been conceived in the river. But I am forgetting myself. You must be weary. Sit, love, and I will call for wine.”

  “Nay, we can have wine later,” he said, stroking her cheek.

  The fireglow cast shadows on the wall beside the bed. Kate was fascinated to watch herself and Richard in silhouette as they made love. She thought how practiced they had become after the first few times. She wondered if she was overly bold, but she had no one with whom to talk and compare. She knew now what excited Richard and was able to pleasure him more in a mere turn of her hip or pressure of her hand. They stifled their satisfied moans for the benefit of those in the kitchen below, but there was nothing they could do to prevent the floorboards creaking and dust seeping down through the cracks from the wobbling bed. Kate giggled, and Richard stopped her mouth with his hand. She pulled it off and placed it on her stomach. He stroked the stretched skin and was bending to kiss it when a faint fluttering came from within. His eyes were wide, and he left his hand there, hoping the sensation would be repeated.

  “He’s a quiet one,” Kate told him. “You were fortunate to feel him, in truth. Though ’tis early days yet, sometimes I wonder if he is really alive in there. Unlike Katherine, who gave me no peace.”

  “Ah, then this must be a boy and will be like me.” Richard rolled off her and nestled into her side. “My mother did have a difficult birth with me, you know. So difficult that she was warned she would not be able to bear another after me. She did, but the baby died. I was small and not strong, so I have been told. But Mother said I had a quiet determination that is with me still.”

  “Our Katherine has determination, Richard, but there is nothing quiet about her. In that she is like me. In truth, I feel this is a boy. And if it be your pleasure, sir, I should still like to name him for my dear father.”

  “So you shall, my love. John is a good English name.”

  They lay for some time talking. Kate told him of George’s death in more detail, and Richard was dismayed to hear what had taken George out of his way and through the forest to his death.

  “How do you know he found my letter, Kate? Might another have discovered it?”

  “Nay, love, no one in my household would break open my box. The letter was not on his person, and so went with the thieves in George’s saddlebag.”

  Richard fumed inwardly at the dead George. His cool logic could not imagine what the foolish man had hoped to accomplish by stealing Kate’s letter. He suppressed his anger and said, “Have you received the annuity yet, Kate?”

  Kate nodded, kissing him gratefully. Richard in turn told her of the turmoil in the months after they had parted, and Kate listened, fascinated. She interrupted him on occasion to ask a pertinent question, and she was rewarded by his admiration for her grasp of the difficult situation. When he had finished, she remarked: “Each time I see you, you have had more responsibility thrust upon you. ’Tis telling on your brow, my love.” She stroked his forehead, and Richard smiled.

  “After Twelfth Night I shall go into Wales again and hold that country strong for Edward.” Richard got up and put on his undershirt. “Now that all is well again, I predict a less troublesome year than this last.” He threw her chemise at her. “Come, my love, I smell something delicious, and my strenuous exercise has given me an appetite only a horse will satisfy. Ho! John!”

  Richard’s squire
appeared at the door moments later to help his master dress, and Kate slipped past him and down the stairs to supervise the evening meal.

  BY THE END OF his short visit, Richard had gained little Katherine’s absolute confidence. She squealed with glee when he picked her up and turned her upside down. Soon, it was Richard’s lap she was seeking in preference to any other, and when there she amused them all by unknowingly flirting with him. Richard could not take his eyes off her, called her “my rosebud,” and his face wore a perpetual smile the entire visit. It gladdened Kate’s heart to see him so taken with the child. A bastard, after all, could so easily have been put aside.

  “I must tell you that Molly’s babe did not survive, Richard,” Kate remembered to inform him privately before Molly served them supper.

  “I am right sorry to hear about your child, Molly,” Richard said. “But like Kate, you are strong and young and will bear other children, ’tis certain.”

  Molly curtsied and thanked him. She knew there would be other chances for her and Wat; it was because the child was their first that made it hard to bear. She picked up the empty wine pitcher and left the room.

  “I must leave on the morrow, Kate. Edward commands that all be present at the betrothal of my niece Elizabeth to John Neville’s son. Elizabeth is a sweet girl, in truth, and I promised her I would be there.”

  Richard reached across and took Kate’s hand. She lifted his to her lips and kissed the palm, sighing, “Aye, you must go, this I know. But when shall I see you again if you go into Wales? How shall I get word to you when this child is born?”

  “Jack will know where to find me, have no fear. I am truly sorry you must bear these burdens alone, but you know the way of it now, and I can do no more than to promise you and the children my protection. You may count on my loyalty always.”

  “I ask for nothing more, Richard, and you, too, may count on mine.”

  THOUSANDS OF DAFFODILS clothed the field next to the house. The mad March wind played havoc among them, bending them this way and that. Scudding gray clouds sent forth a patter of rain that stung Kate’s face as she struggled back from the Hall. She had become so large that her cloak barely met in the middle and billowed out around her feet, making her appear grotesque. She had been invited to the Hall that day to toast Edward’s newest baron: John, Lord Howard.

  “Lord Howard!” The name had echoed around the Hall when the household stood and honored their master at dinner. “God save your lordship!”

  Now it was late in the afternoon, and Kate hurried as best she could back to the warmth of her house. She was anxious to be brought to bed of this boy. Aye, Lord, she thought, I am certain this is a boy. But let it be soon. I am weary of the load. A gust of wind nearly knocked her off her feet a few yards from her door, and some cabbage leaves tumbled past from the rubbish heap next to the house. Oh, no, she grumbled, must I piss yet again? She visited the latrine behind the house and held her nose as she heaved her bulk onto the plank. The door banged on its hinges in the wind, giving her staccato glimpses of the yellow field in front.

  Once she was in the kitchen, Molly fussed around her, and Katherine cried to be let out of her restraining device. Wat had carved a hole in the end of a plank, through which he had slotted an iron rod, the ends of which were attached to the ceiling and the floor. Katherine straddled the plank in a harness. Her legs could reach the ground, and she was able to toddle around the central rod, strengthening her legs and staying out of Janet’s and Molly’s way. It kept her happy for hours, though it made Kate dizzy just to watch her. Kate stood for a moment, supporting her aching back with one hand, and then waddled over to release Katherine. The child flung her arms around her mother’s neck as Kate bent down to greet her, but she was not picked up.

  “Nay, Katherine. You are too heavy for your mother just now. But come and sit on my lap, sweeting.” She laughed at her daughter, who was looking mutinous. “Tell me what words you have learned today.”

  “Boy!” crowed Katherine, perching herself precariously on her mother’s knees. “Boy, boy, boy, boy!” she repeated, liking the sound.

  “Oh, dear. And you so young.”

  “Ma-ma,” Katherine said almost poking Kate in the eye. “Moy.” She indicated Molly.

  “And who is that?” Kate pointed at Janet.

  “Cook!” cried Katherine proudly. The women laughed.

  “Certes, she is our cook. But she has a name. Can you say Ja-net.” Kate pronounced it slowly. “Now you try, sweeting.”

  “’Nit!”

  Molly guffawed. “’Nit. ’Tis a fine name, bain’t it, mistress.” She winked at Kate. Janet was not sure how to take this. She was a simple woman, not accustomed to being teased. Kate took pity on her.

  “I think Janet is much nicer, Molly. Now, Katherine, try again . . . Ahhh!” The cry left her lips suddenly and frightened Katherine onto the floor. Kate clutched her stomach, her face tense. “I think the name game must wait, my dearest child. Molly, prepare my chamber. Is the fire still alive? ’Tis time for this baby to enter the world.” Kate ordered her servants calmly. “Janet, go and tell Wat to fetch the midwife.” Janet knocked over her stool in her hurry to obey, and Kate smiled. “Do not be alarmed, woman. I have done this before.”

  She replaced the squirming Katherine in her harness. “I am sorry, sweetheart. I will stay with you until Janet returns, but then Mother needs to go upstairs to bed. And before you know it, you will have a baby brother . . . or a sister.” She had been so sure since its conception that this child would be a boy, but now she wondered.

  “Brudder,” repeated Katherine, much to her mother’s delight. “Baby!”

  “Aye, child. Baby brother.”

  Later the midwife arrived in time to deliver Kate of a large, solemn boy. He gave a lusty cry at the outset but then preferred to take in his surroundings. Kate was astonished at the difference in her two children. Thick dark hair, fine white skin, gray eyes and a prominent chin proclaimed him for all the world the son of Richard Plantagenet. How would she explain this to Philippa was all she could think as she gazed at her baby. It was as though a miniature Richard stared back at her. She laughed and kissed him.

  “His name shall be John, in honor of my father,” Kate told the women.

  “Mistress, you be so lucky,” the midwife said as she wiped her hands and looked proudly down at her handiwork. “Molly tells me this birthing was even easier than the first. You were made for mothering, ’tis sure.”

  Kate smiled. “Aye, I think so. And for all he was so big.”

  “’Tis true. Be your husband big like this?”

  Kate gulped and was caught off guard. Molly came to her rescue. “John’s father be not tall but not short either,” she answered ambiguously. “He be just right for my mistress.”

  The midwife accepted the explanation and asked to be dismissed. “There is nowt more for me to do here, mistress. Molly can help you now.”

  “I knew not what to say to her, Molly,” Kate chuckled when the midwife left. “This child is the image of his father, and there is nothing of my husband about him. Oh, dear!”

  “Pay it no mind just now, mistress. The babe has need of his mother’s milk, poor little mite.”

  Molly’s eyes were full of envious tears as she watched Kate feed John for the first time. Her baby would have been two months old that very day.

  * * *

  A WEEK OR SO after the birth, Kate took a letter addressed to Richard up to Tendring Hall. She had been cooped up inside for too long, and despite the threatening clouds, she was determined to try her legs and breathe fresh air again. Tom Moleyns let her into the Hall, congratulating her and inquiring about the baby’s health. “’Tis a great pity his father will never know him, Dame Katherine.”

  Kate was so taken aback that she almost gave herself away by asking, “Why, what has happened to Richard?” but checked herself in time.

  “Aye, Tom, although Master Haute did not care too much about being a father.”
She was truthful but tried to sound sad. Before Tom could answer, they were at the office door, and Tom showed her in.

  “Thank you, Tom. I shall not need you for a time,” Jack told the young man.

  Several gentlemen of the household were gathered in the room, but when they saw Kate, they bowed to Jack and left.

  Jack’s face was all smiles. “Why, Kate! ’Tis good to see you looking so hale after your birthing ordeal. Margaret tells me you were delivered of a fine boy. I am well pleased, my dear, and I am sure young Dickon will be, too. Is that a letter for him I see?”

  He gave her a bear hug and a wet kiss on the mouth. His mustache tickled her, and she laughed. “It is, Sir John—I mean, my lord. Will you see Richard receives it, if you please?”

  Jack took the letter, went back to the table and poured them both a cup of wine. “’Tis time you dispensed with ‘my lord,’ Kate. Those near to me call me Jack. Now, sit, sit! I have some news that should please you, although it will not bring Richard any closer to Suffolk, I fear.” Jack waved her to the bench on the other side of the table, and she arranged herself upon it. “The very day your baby was born, Kate, the king fought a battle against the rebels in Lincolnshire and routed them. No, no, Richard was not there, I promise you, he was safe in Wales. It became clear after the battle that ’twas again those traitors Warwick and Clarence who had incited the rebels. Edward is now moving north to quell any others who might be ready to join them, and he has commanded me to array more than a thousand men and put to sea with my fleet. He fears Warwick will flee the country.”

  “Good riddance!” Kate’s vehemence caused Jack to raise an eyebrow.

  “Does Gloucester hate the earl that much?”

  Kate looked startled. “Nay, my lord . . . Jack. Richard has been caught between his guardian and Edward this twelvemonth. He owes much to the earl, as you know, and has been faithful to him always. But now he owes his brother his fealty, and it grieves him to turn his back on the earl. ’Tis my opinion only that the earl has caused this land much blood for his own greedy gain. I spoke rashly. I beg your pardon. I am but a simple woman, who knows little of politics.”