Jack held up his hand in protest. “Richard of Gloucester is not a man to form an attachment to a simpering miss, beauty or no. I would not be telling you this if I did not know you understand its import.”
Kate was flattered. Jack’s opinion meant almost as much to her as Richard’s. Although Kate’s children, her daily routine and the management of the house were her principal concerns, she was passionate about Richard the man, not Richard the prince, and she took pride in learning all she could of the world outside Tendring.
“When must you leave, Jack? Margaret will sorely miss you. And I shall, too.”
“With you to keep Margaret company, I doubt either of you will give me a thought or a prayer.” He downed his wine and smiled at her. “Now I must return to my work. I have many letters to dispatch, including this one to Richard. I wonder where the devil Bliant is?”
KATE AND MARGARET spent many hours together replenishing the large herb garden at Tendring in the early summer months. Cat and Katherine amused themselves under Edith’s watchful eye, while Molly cradled John on her lap. Colors fascinated Katherine, and several plants were already flowering, affording her tempting targets. Cat was a year older, but she followed Katherine around like a shadow as the younger child grew sturdier on her legs.
“She reminds me of Anne Haute,” Kate remarked to Margaret one day in June as they sat down to rest under an apple tree and watched the two children. “Obedient, gentle and intelligent. My Katherine might take heed of those qualities.”
Margaret was flattered by the description of Cat. “Pshaw, Kate. Your daughter will settle down, just see if she doesn’t.”
Kate did not voice the opinion that she would rather have willful, curious Katherine than a hundred obedient Cats. “Aye, I expect she will,” she said instead. “No, Katherine. We do not eat stones.”
Katherine looked at the stone and then at her mother and promptly stuck it in her mouth. Kate jumped up and ran to her daughter. “Naughty girl!” she admonished her. Katherine spat out the stone quickly. “’Tis wise to obey your mother, Katherine, or you will get a hiding, you know that.”
It would not be the first time, Margaret supposed, watching the scene with a smile. She turned to where Cat was patiently picking daisies around Edith’s skirts and nodded smugly. She had admitted to Kate this child was her favorite. She had not loved her previous husbands and had considered bringing Lettice and William into the world a duty more than an act of love, although she was fond of the pair. With Jack it was different. She adored his generous spirit, quiet ambition and the fact that he was not above showing her affection or lauding her intellectual capability. An unusual man of his time, Jack Howard, she told Kate. The child they shared was a special gift of their love. As if her thoughts had spirited him there, Jack’s voice carried over the wall.
“Margaret! Are you there, wife?”
“Jack, you are home!” Margaret scrambled to her feet, untucked her overskirt from her belt and put on her straw hat.
“Stay there, I will come to you,” he answered.
The iron door swung open and Jack strode in, sweating in his kersey cote. Kate had yet to see Jack in a fashionable short jacket and multicolored hose, and Margaret told her she never would. Her husband thought he was too old to expose the length of his bandy legs to the world and besides, he disapproved of men showing off their private parts in mixed company. Instead he favored the shorter houppeland that revealed only his muscled calves. Although he was not tall, he was burly. With his charm, distinctive mustache and booming voice, he was unable to slip in anywhere unnoticed. Margaret ran to him, and he picked her up and swung her around in a circle. “Really, Jack! Put me down. I am no child,” she protested, but she was laughing.
“No, you are my heart’s delight and I am right glad to see you again, my dearest wife.” Jack set her down, and with no modesty at all kissed her full on the lips, running his hands up and down her back. They were interrupted by little Cat, who, upon spotting her father, ran full tilt along the path and threw her arms around his knees.
“God’s bones, what’s this! Why, Cat, you greet your father well, my poppet!” Letting Margaret go, he picked up his daughter and set her on his shoulder. She clutched onto his head for dear life, not relishing her high perch at all.
“Good day to you, Kate,” he greeted Kate cheerily. “How pleasant when the nursery can move out of doors.”
“God’s welcome my lord. ’Tis good to see you home again. Aye, ’tis pleasant indeed.”
Kate dropped a curtsy then went forward for Jack’s customary kiss. Katherine toddled behind her mother.
“The fresh air sends Katherine to bed with little complaint, in truth. But I do not wish to intrude. Would you prefer that I leave, sir?” she asked, picking up her daughter.
“Nay, Kate, what I have to tell Margaret will be of interest to you, too. Come, ladies, and walk with me. Edith, watch the two maids for a few minutes, if you will,” he said, setting Cat down.
Kate relinquished her daughter, and Edith took the hand of both girls and walked with them to the other side of the garden. Kate confirmed that John was still asleep in Molly’s lap and turned back to the Howards.
“Warwick and Clarence gave us a merry race in the Channel,” Jack began, closing the door of the garden behind them and walking them into the apple orchard. “We chased them from Devon, but our ships were scattered. By the time we reached Calais, where we were certain they had fled, they were gone. By some miracle, they were refused entry to Calais.”
“But I thought Warwick was captain of the garrison there, Jack,” Margaret said. “Why would he be refused?”
“The garrison was for Edward, my dear, and what is more, Duke Charles of Burgundy was willing to support them against Warwick, for the Warwick had captured some of Burgundy’s ships and so did not endear himself to the duke. Warwick had no choice. He moved along the coast of Normandy—with his wife and daughters and Clarence. ’Tis said the Duchess of Clarence was in childbirth on board at Calais and lost the child.”
“How cruel!” Kate cried. “They should have allowed her to land, in truth. She and the babe are innocent in this.”
“Nay, Kate. A wife must follow her husband. ’Tis doubtful Edward’s troops would have harmed the ladies, ’tis true, but with the Lady Isobel carrying Clarence’s child, ’twas prudent of the earl to take his womenfolk with him. If he had success in putting Clarence on the throne, he wanted the heir safe with him.”
“Is this the earl’s design?” Margaret was indignant. “To put that vain boy on the throne?”
“Why do you think he incited rebellion, Margaret? He tried to control Edward last year without success. He has no claim to the throne and cannot reign, so Clarence is to be his puppet.”
“Forgive me, Jack. Finish your tale. I did not mean to interrupt you,” Margaret said.
“My ships pursued Warwick’s, and we were able to recapture some of the Burgundy prizes, but the biggest prize escaped us and is now in France as a guest of King Louis.”
“I heard someone at Stratford Langthorne refer to Louis as the Spider,” Margaret said. “You have seen him, my love, does he look like a spider?”
“Nay!” Jack gave a snort of laughter. “He is thick of body, and his nose is so big and bulbous he cannot see much beneath it. ’Tis his skill at weaving webs across the courts of Europe has earned him the name of spider. Edward should be wary of Warwick under Louis’ wing. I like it not.”
Margaret was puzzled. “But the king is safe upon the throne again. Why should he fear Warwick now? Everyone knows him and Clarence for traitors.”
Jack spoke of new uprisings in Yorkshire and general unrest in many parts of the country. All was not well in England, he said, and he was afraid Edward was not paying enough heed to the warnings. He gave a long sigh. “But enough of politics. I came home for some peace and quiet.”
“How long will you be home this time, my love?” Margaret asked.
“Edw
ard knows where to find me if he needs me. But there is talk that I shall be at sea again ere long.”
“Then let us rejoice and make merry while you are here. Kate, you must dine with us on the morrow, and I insist you give Jack a song for his homecoming.”
“Gladly!” Kate assented. “I have learned a new song for Richard when next he comes, but I shall be happy to practice it on you. Now I must leave you to your homecoming.”
“Until tomorrow, Kate,” Margaret called after her.
Jack stopped short and slapped his forehead.
“God’s bones! But I am getting old. I almost forgot. Kate! Kate! Wait, I pray you. I have something for you!” Jack undid the pouch at his waist and hurried back to her.
He handed her a package.
“Sweet Kate and mother of my son, I greet you well. It is with great happiness I write to acknowledge the birth of John, and I thank God daily for my good fortune. He shall have a place at my side when the time is right. I regret I cannot see him—nor you, my rose, for many more weeks. Edward has sent me into the north and I fear I shall be kept busy yet a while. As soon as I am able, I shall come to honor you and my son. Kiss Katherine for me.”
Kate unwrapped the small book of hours he had sent as a gift, marveling at the exquisite illustrations and gold leaf. On the inside cover, he had written the words “Loyaulté me lie.”
Kate searched for a translation. “Loyalty . . . bindeth me.”
“’Tis the way of him, in truth.”
RICHARD WAS RIGHT. The weeks stretched to months and still he did not come. The summer in Suffolk passed slowly and quietly, the natural rituals unaffected by the machinations of ambitious men. The sheep were sheared, the hay mowed, the harvest reaped and the apples ripened rosy under the warm summer sun.
Jack had been right, too. He had spent some weeks at home after his return, but in early August he was sent back to sea. His mission, with Lord Scales—now Lord Rivers after his father’s execution by Warwick—was to blockade the French coast to prevent Warwick launching an invasion fleet with Louis’ help. He sent missives back to Margaret from time to time, most of which contained instructions on the proper running of his estates in his absence. One piece of news Margaret shared with Kate caused Kate feelings of elation and then guilt.
“Jack writes that through King Louis Warwick has been reconciled with Queen Margaret. ’Tis hard to believe, I warrant you, but true. The story goes that she kept the earl on his knees begging forgiveness for a full quarter-hour. I can imagine his lordship’s base humiliation,” she crowed. “And to seal the contract, Margaret agreed to the betrothal of her son to Warwick’s daughter, Anne. It was said the queen was enraged by the idea of a less than royal princess for her son, but Louis insisted the arrangement would benefit both. As a guest at his court, and with his help promised, she could not gainsay Louis.”
“Anne Neville married to Prince Edward?” Kate smirked. “Oh, dear.”
“Why should that amuse you, Kate?”
“If you swear not to tell?”
Margaret nodded at once.
“Richard had Anne in mind for a wife. And I know not whether to be merry for me or sorry for him.” Kate laughed. “I think he has a fondness for her that I liked not, in truth. I know I cannot hope to hold him for myself for ever, but perhaps I shall have him a while longer until he finds another suitable bride. And I pray ’tis an old crone!”
Margaret went off into peals of laughter, her double chin shaking. “You are truly wicked, Kate!” Then she was more serious. “May God forgive your jealous heart. Thank Him for the joy you have shared, no matter how short-lived, for many never know it. But Richard is a prince of the realm, and he must make a royal match. ’Tis surprising Edward has not found his brother a bride yet.”
“I know you are right, Margaret, and I should be grateful for knowing such a love. But be merry with me for a moment!”
ON A GOLDEN AUTUMN DAY, Kate was in the orchard helping with the apple picking when Jack rode full tilt into the stable yard. Tom Moleyns and several retainers dismounted around him. The commotion was not lost on the harvesters.
“’Tis the master,” called one yeoman from his perch in a tree. “He has ridden hard.”
Only Kate left her post to run and see what had brought Jack back in such haste.
“Come inside with me, Kate,” Jack called. “’Tis disastrous news I bring.”
He shouted a few orders to his servants and followed Kate into the house. Margaret met them in the hall.
“Jack, my dear husband. I am glad to see you, but what is wrong? You look to have seen a ghost.” She fussed about him, helping him off with his mantle and dusty hat. She called to a lackey to bring cider and then persuaded Jack to sit down.
“Edward is on the run, that is what’s wrong!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the arm of the solid oak chair. He winced and rubbed his bruised hand. “’Tis not to be believed, and yet ’tis true.”
“The king on the run! You jest, Jack. Why? Speak, husband! Are you in danger?”
“I know not what to think, Margaret. Give me something to slake my thirst, and then it may be I can tell you what has happened more calmly.”
The page returned at that moment with a pitcher of cider and a cup. Margaret gave Jack the cup herself and made him drink before he continued. The room was filled with the men who had ridden in with him as well as several of Jack’s other gentlemen retainers, who were curious to know what the commotion was about. Children were inching forward to get a better view, and Edith, Agnes and Rose were hanging over the banister.
“Rivers and I were unable to stop Warwick’s fleet from leaving France. A storm scattered us and he slipped through. We headed back to England and learned Warwick and Clarence had landed in Devon and were gathering quite an army. We did not know, when we landed in Southampton, that the king was still in the north with the bulk of his followers. I do not understand how Edward could have ignored our intelligences sent during August. ’Twas obvious Warwick meant to invade. Yet Edward made no provision to secure the country against such an invasion.” He shook his head. “Folly, such folly!”
“But Jack, Edward has the advantage, does he not? He has Northumberland’s and Montagu’s armies as well as his own. He must far outnumber Warwick.” Margaret stood beside her husband, a hand on his shoulder.
He gritted his teeth. “But Edward’s mistakes have caught up with him, Margaret. ’Twas no surprise to me that the newly titled marquis of Montagu—John Neville—turned against the king as soon as his brother Warwick landed.” A gasp of horror came from those listening. This was bad news indeed. “John Neville’s new title never sat well with him, as I foresaw. He felt Edward had fobbed him off. So, Neville family blood finally prevailed. With Montagu in pursuit, Edward and those still with him—Gloucester, Hastings, Rivers among them—took flight to the Wash. I was at Stepney when I received this news and have ridden hard to get here and gather as many men as I can to aid Edward’s cause. I have no doubt the king is for the Norfolk coast to find ships large enough to carry him to the Continent, if he needs. But where, I cannot tell. I am taking a chance it may be Lynn.”
Jack paused to take a breath and another sip of cider.
“Gloucester! Do you say Richard is in flight, too, my lord?” Kate leaned towards him and whispered, her eyes betraying her concern. Jack glanced up at her and nodded imperceptibly. “Dear God!” she muttered and mentally crossed herself.
Jack gave Margaret his cup and heaved himself to his feet. It was then that he became aware of the huddle of onlookers around him. He waved them away.
“I must go. Margaret, arrange to pack my bags. I know not when I shall return. John, William, Harry, Will, Sir Benet and Giles—come with me, we must make quick work of a few matters before I leave.” He stalked off into his office.
Margaret hurried upstairs with Tom, calling to Edith to arrange for a meal before the party set out. Harry Daniel reappeared a few minutes later and disappear
ed through the front door to mount his horse and ride to Jack’s other manors, looking for men to take up arms and serve their master.
Kate stood unnoticed in a corner while the house teemed with activity, her mind in a whirl. She must see Richard! He was leaving the country, that was certain, and she did not know when she might see him again. She did not like to add, “If ever.” She unconsciously twisted Richard’s ring on her finger and tried to think of a plan. She was determined to go with Jack, but she knew he would not countenance her riding on such a dangerous mission. How could she go and not be noticed? Then she remembered the song she had sung on Molly’s wedding day and she knew. She would disguise herself as a man! She slipped out of the hall and ran to the stables. Harry was calling orders to several grooms, who began to saddle and bridle the horses for imminent departure. She saw Wat currying a horse at the far end of the stable and hurried to him.
“Wat, you must help me! Put down that brush and saddle one of the small horses.”
Wat had not been apprised of the reason for the commotion, and he thought Kate was requesting a different horse for a leisurely ride in the woods. “But mistress, I need permission from the head groom. Why do you not ride Cornflower? She be yours.” He scratched his head, as always. Kate often wondered what resided in the thatch that was his crowning glory.
“Fiddle-faddle! Lord Howard will not care. Cornflower is not fast enough for my journey. And I need you to find me a sword and buckler. You must also lend me your tunic with the Howard colors and some hose. Do not look at me so, Wat. Do as I bid you, please. And hurry! When you have gathered everything, meet me with the horse at my house.”
She gathered up her skirts and hurried down the hill.
“Molly, I am leaving for a few days,” she announced as she heaved open the door and went into the kitchen. “Pray come upstairs with me, and I will explain everything. Katherine, be a good girl and stay with Janet.”
Upstairs, Molly listened, horrified, as Kate unveiled her plan. “With your and Wat’s help, I can disguise myself as a squire ready to ride with Lord Howard for the king. If I rode Cornflower, it would give me away, would it not? Oh, Molly, I know ’tis foolhardy, but if I can trust you to take care of the babes—pay the wet nurse to stay here until I return—I can at least try and see him,” she pleaded. “You must help me in this. I might never see Richard again!”
A Rose for the Crown: A Novel Page 44
