Nay, she thought, I must be dreaming, and passed under the arch.
“NOT AGAIN!” MARGARET groaned when she heard the news that the Northumbrian castles had once more fallen into Lancastrian hands. “I suppose that means Edward will have to go north.”
It was high summer, and Greenwich was dressed in its best. Emerald green grass carpeted the courtyards, flowers of every hue graced the gardens and the river sparkled in the sunshine. A peacock strutted on the lawn in the inner courtyard, its tail spread in a proud fan of teal, blue, gold and green. George and Richard had finished their studies for the day and had been told this news by their tutor.
“Aye, he has gone north,” George grumbled, “and he did not ask me to go with him. Meggie, when will I be old enough to be considered a man?”
“Soon, George, I warrant. When you are sixteen.” Margaret dragged her eyes from her latest passion, Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, to answer her disgruntled brother. “You have only a little more than a year to wait. Though ’tis a mystery to me why men hunger to fight. You could be killed or, even worse, maimed for life. Certes, I do not understand you.”
“’Tis our duty to fight for our brother, the king,” piped up Richard. “Just as it will be your duty to marry for him.”
George guffawed, and Richard looked pleased with himself. Margaret glared at them, turned her back and put her nose back in the book. She pretended to be reading, and, thinking their sport with her was at an end, the boys chose another and ran off to the archery butts. Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. She applied herself again to Master Chaucer’s words. She was reading the preamble to the tale told by the wife of Bath when she was startled by the lines:
Or where commanded God virginity?
I read as well as you no doubt have read
The apostle when he speaks of maidenhead;
He said, commandment of the Lord he’d none.
She looked around the room guiltily as though someone could see what she was reading, but her ladies were all occupied with their needlework and gossip, and so she read on:
Men may advise a woman to be one,
But such advice is not commandment, no;
He left the thing to our own judgment so.
Was this true? Saving one’s maidenhood for the sanctity of marriage was as innate to her as breathing or sleeping. She had wondered if John Harper’s wandering fingers counted, and she had whispered her confession of their tryst to the shadowy priest behind the grille in the confessional, praying he would not recognize her. She felt better afterwards, thinking God had pardoned her. She had worried she might be with child, having limited knowledge of how her body worked, and was relieved when her courses had reappeared later in the month. Now, if she understood the wife of Bath’s implication—and if she could trust in Master Chaucer’s knowledge of the Scriptures—losing one’s maidenhead before marriage was not breaking God’s law.
A bell rang the Terce and banished these thoughts. More by rote than by inclination, she picked up her rosary and ran through the empty king’s apartments to the royal chapel and knelt on a tapestry-covered footstool before the altar. The chaplain smiled at her; she was never late for her prayers. As soon as she was joined by other members of her household, he began the service. Margaret prayed for her family, for the souls of her departed father and brother, and then she prayed for a quick end to any fighting in Northumbria and especially for Edward’s safety. Finally she sneaked in a quick Ave for John—assuming he was with Edward—and for Anthony. She had learned that Anthony had been keeping his wife company in Norfolk during the spring, and she had been in the doldrums for a while upon hearing it. She did not know that he had departed for the north once more with a body of men to join the earl of Warwick, who had followed his brother, Lord Montagu, to reclaim those pesky Northumbrian castles.
“Lord God, keep them both in your loving care, and I pray you make an end to all the fighting.”
It seemed God heard her and had acted quickly, for upon leaving the chapel, she was almost knocked down by Richard, who, intent on besting George with his bow and arrow, had not heeded the call to prayer as she had.
“The queen and her son are fled to Scotland! Montagu beat back their army! The castles are ours again,” the boy cried, breathless. “Sir John Howard has come to tell us. We are safe from the She-Wolf, Meggie. Safe!”
Margaret smiled at his excitement, took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the privy chamber nearby where Jack was waiting.
“Lady Margaret.” He smiled, doffing his bonnet and bowing over her hand. She noticed a circle of gray hair amid the black on the crown of his head. “I trust young Lord Richard here gave you the good news. ’Tis a week or two old, but I heard it aboard ship at Sandwich and came straightway to tell you. Nay, I was not involved in the fighting, my lady,” he said, anticipating her next question. “Your brother, the king’s grace, commanded I ready the fleet for possible war with the French. The earl of Warwick and his brother were victorious, it seems, and your brother and all his friends are now staying at Fotheringhay.”
Margaret nodded absently, for her attention was riveted on a diminutive creature with a saturnine countenance cowering behind the chair Jack had just vacated. She was dressed in a miniature gown of a style Margaret did not recognize. The embroidered bodice was laced up to a plain, modest neckline. Enormous pleated sleeves, which were a different color from her dress, ballooned over the dwarf’s upper arms, making the shoulders appear disproportionately large. A piece of soft silk was pinned over her neatly braided black hair. Margaret saw that this little person was fastidious about her appearance, which surprised Margaret, for having never seen a dwarf before, she had preconceived notions that their ways were as abnormal as their bodies. She had always thought the condition was a cruel joke played by God.
And then she saw the eyes. Now wide with terror, as black as coal and framed in long, soft lashes, they were the girl’s most arresting feature. Margaret held them in her gaze, and her heart melted at the fear she could plainly read in them. Forgetting her first distaste, she smiled. “Who is this, I pray, Sir John? I do not remember her accompanying you before.”
Jack beamed, clapping his hat back on his head. “This, my lady, is Fortunata. She is a gift from me to you, if you will take her,” he said with a flourish.
Margaret was taken aback. “For … for me? ’Tis gracious, Sir John, but why for me?”
“Ah, I see you do not recall our last meeting, when you expressed a wish to have your own Jehan Le Sage to keep you company and amused, Lady Margaret. Certes, when I encountered Fortunata, I straightway thought of you. I pray you honor this simple man and take his simple gift. She is Italian but speaks English quite well, I believe.” John ushered Fortunata towards Margaret, hoping he would not have to answer any more questions. The dwarf, a grim expression set on her sallow face, made an awkward little bow.
“Fortunata,” Margaret repeated the name slowly. “What a beautiful name. I fear it did not bring her good fortune, though. How old is she?”
“I fifteen years, madonna,” the dwarf murmured, daring to look up at Margaret through those incredible lashes. “Plis.”
“Plis?” Margaret frowned and then laughed. “Oh! Please, of course!”
“Fifteen?” blurted out Richard, who had been staring, fascinated, at Fortunata. “Why, she is smaller than me!”
“Dickon, hold your tongue!” Margaret rebuked him. “Please go and tell Ann where I am. Dickon! Are you listening? That’s better, now go!”
Richard made a face behind his sister’s back on his way out, and Jack hid a smile.
“Sir John, how long have you been hiding Fortunata, and how is it you are able to give her to me? Is she a servant of yours?” Margaret asked.
“Nay, my lady. She is mine to give, but I confess how I came by her is not fit for a lady’s ears.”
“Nonsense, Sir John! I am not so lily-livered I cannot hear your tale. Tell me you fought pirates to fr
ee her and I would be more than satisfied. Except then we should have to send her back fom whence she came,” she mused, her mouth turning down.
“Non, madonna, non, non! Plis!” All of a sudden, Fortunata was on her knees, tears running down her face. Margaret and Jack stared in astonishment. “Not go back, plis! I burn!”
“Be calm, child,” Jack commanded, “and listen to me. This lady is the sister of the king of England. Aye, you may look dumbfounded, but ’tis no lie. You will serve the Lady Margaret with respect.”
Fortunata responded by kissing the hem of Margaret’s gown.
“Sir John, what do you know about her?” Margaret persisted. “I command you tell me how she came to be with you, unless of course you won her in a game of chance—that I would not countenance! ’Twould be mortifying for her.”
Jack covered his embarrassment with a cough, while Margaret bent and coaxed Fortunata to stand up. “Well, Sir John?” she asked again.
“’Twas not I but the captain of my vessel, the Mary Talbot, my lady,” he explained. “Richard Outlaw is a good man, in truth, but he did indeed win Fortunata in a game.”
Margaret frowned. “From whom did this Outlaw cruelly steal this poor thing, Sir John? I pray it was not from her father and mother, or I will have him horsewhipped.” Her own anger surprised her, but her heart had gone out to this unfortunate creature. She was determined to make amends. God had obviously sent Fortunata to her as a test of her charity, and she knew already she would take the dwarf into her household, if Edward would countenance an extra mouth for her to feed. She was dependent upon Edward’s bounty for every gold noble she spent, and so far he had been generous.
She sat down in the chair, holding Fortunata’s hand all the while, and waited for Jack to speak.
“I swear I know not where she came from. I only know Outlaw was taken with her skills upon seeing her perform in a traveling circus with her magician master. Later, after a few drinks I suppose, he and the master fell in together, and Outlaw suggested they throw dice. The man lost all his money that night and begged to try and win it back. Richard took pity on him and offered the money back in exchange for Fortunata, and he accepted. I came aboard a day later and found Fortunata cleaning Richard’s quarters and without much ado extracted the story from him.” He saw Margaret’s dark look and hurried on. “Certes, I railed at him for a goodly few minutes but could do no more than pay him the money he had given. ’Twas only then I realized I now had Fortunata’s fate in my hands. And then I thought of you, Lady Margaret.”
“Poor child,” Margaret murmured and then told Sir John, “I like not that your man was playing for a human life, sir, but perhaps she has been sent to me for a reason. You may be sure I will look after her.” She added more kindly, “I am indeed grateful that you thought of me, Sir John. I am glad you did not consider my wish a foolish one that evening in March! You are a good man, I am sure, and Edward shall hear of your kindness.”
“Thank you, my lady. May I have your leave to return to my ship? I have to continue to London.”
“Go, sir.” Margaret held out her hand for him to kiss. “And God speed.”
Without a backward glance at Fortunata, he strode quickly from the hall, his dark blue houppelande flapping around his ankles.
5
1463
Margaret stared after Jack, her mind in a whirl. What was she thinking? Who was this little woman whom she had agreed to absorb into her household? Could she be a spy? Was she a witch? This last question concerned her deeply. Her superstitious nature and strict religious upbringing had taught her to be wary of anyone with physical deformities. Even a birthmark could be a message from the Devil. And if she was a witch, she was doomed to the flames of Hell.
“Burn! ’Tis what you tried to say,” Margaret said suddenly, startling Fortunata. “Is that what happened to you where you came from? Did they try to burn you?”
Fortunata crossed herself, pulled a rosary from a fold in her gown and nodded. “I not witch, madonna. I good girl. Love God, love la Sancta Madonna …”
“Aye, I believe you do.” Margaret rose, and Fortunata scrambled to her feet. “But we must be sure everyone else believes it, too. Now, what are the skills you have—tricks, you understand—that so impressed Captain Outlaw? Magic?” Margaret waved her hands dramatically.
Fortunata cocked her head, watching her new mistress, and then nodded. “I show you, madonna.” She took a black wand from her belt, turned around three times and threw it in the air. When it came down it was naught but a silk kerchief. Margaret clapped her hands in delight. “Good, good, Fortunata!” she cried, and the smile of gratitude she received transformed the grim features of the girl’s face into a semblance of beauty. Margaret was charmed.
Ann came hurrying through the door and stopped in her tracks. “Lord Richard told us”—she saw Margaret frown, and she faltered—“he told us you wanted to see me.”
“This is Fortunata. She is Italian but she speaks some English. She will be joining us, Ann, and I will brook no unkindness towards her, do you understand?” Margaret attempted to sound as commanding as her mother, and, watching Ann curtsey and demur, she knew she had succeeded. She turned to Fortunata, who was again hiding behind the chair, and beckoned to her. “Come here, child. This is Mistress Ann Herbert. You must call her Mistress Ann. Do you understand? Mistress Ann.”
“Sì madonna. Mistress Anna.” Fortunata looked up shyly at Ann, studying her. Ann’s haughty stare made her inch closer to Margaret, trusting her new mistress to protect her.
An enormous wolfhound bounded into the room, dragging George behind it, and Fortunata screamed in terror and ran to the safety of the chair again. Her fear was a magnet for the dog, which lunged as far as its leash would allow at the small person who had clambered onto the heavy wooden seat.
“George! Call Alaris off at once!” Margaret ordered, standing in front of the terrified Fortunata. Alaris was barking, Fortunata screaming and George shouting, “Down, boy! Down!” to his hound. Curious servants began peering in at the scene, whispering and pointing at Fortunata, who was trying to climb onto Margaret’s back to escape Alaris’s bared teeth. The steward arrived on the scene, flushed and puffing from taking the stairs two at a time, and threw up his hands at the pandemonium. Richard ran into the room, followed closely by Jane and Margaret’s other ladies, and soon the whole wing of the palace was in an uproar. Richard finally calmed the dog and then took the leash from George and spoke something into the hound’s ear. It immediately whined and sat back on its haunches. “Good dog,” said Richard, patting its enormous head, and Alaris washed the boy’s face with one sweep of its tongue.
“My lady, what has happened here?” cried the white-haired steward, asserting his position as overseer of the royal brothers’ and sister’s households. “Certes, it sounded as though there had been murder done!”
Margaret was extricating herself from Fortunata’s surprisingly strong grip on her neck and succeeded in calming the girl sufficiently to respond with a little dignity.
“All is well, Sir Walter, I thank you. ’Twas my lord of Clarence’s dog that set upon my new servant, Fortunata, here. She was justly afraid. ’Tis over now, and you may go about your business. Pray forgive us for disturbing you, sir.”
The steward had only now spotted Fortunata, and his eyebrows disappeared under his hastily donned bonnet. “Who is this mon—”
“Young woman, Sir Walter? Is that what you were about to say?” Margaret smiled sweetly at him, and he did not dare to gainsay her in front of the household. He nodded, and Margaret enlightened him. “She joined my household this afternoon as a gift from Sir John Howard, to whom I am most grateful.”
She looked around and saw that a goodly number of the household had gathered in the doorway and others were craning their necks over them to see into the room. She spoke so that everyone could hear. “This unfortunate girl has been persecuted in her native land for her lack of inches, and she has been bought a
nd sold like a slave by wicked men who hoped to make their fortune from her want of growth. ’Tis monstrous. I know you would all agree.” She looked at them all intently, and many nodded or crossed themselves. “She has learned some wondrous magic tricks, which will amuse us all on cold winter evenings, and I have no doubt my brother, the king, will be envious of my good fortune. Jehan Le Sage may have a rival!” she finished triumphantly. “Fortunata means good luck in the Italian tongue, and I believe she brings good fortune to us all! Now who will carry her to my own apartments?”
The astonished Fortunata found herself being swept up in the air and borne aloft to Margaret’s apartments by several smiling squires, followed by an exuberant Margaret and less enthusiastic ladies-in-waiting. The steward bowed as Margaret passed, but she heard his “Tch, tch” as she left the room. Oh, dear, she thought, this would certainly reach Mother’s ears before long. But her heart lifted at her own courage.
IT WAS LATE September. Fortunata was no longer stared at nor was she the talk of the Greenwich court. She followed Margaret wherever she went, becoming invisible behind chairs or pillars and even hiding under the table. Margaret didn’t mind; in fact, it amused her. The dwarf was now simply part of Margaret, and Margaret’s attendants could not remember a time when Fortunata had not been there. She had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly how Margaret was feeling and could fetch a cloak or a drink without being asked or turn a cartwheel to jog Margaret out of an ill humor. What Margaret admired the most about her new servant was her quickness of mind and how soon her English became fluent. The accent would always be there, of course, but it lent the dwarf a charm that transcended her unusual appearance.
Of all Margaret’s ladies, Ann was the unhappiest about the addition to their small group. She had imagined she was Margaret’s friend and favorite companion, but Fortunata was quickly taking that corner of Margaret’s heart. Lazy Jane told Ann to be glad someone else would fetch and carry, and what did it matter? Both of them had been found husbands by their fathers and would soon leave Margaret’s service. But Ann continued to sulk, and she slyly pinched Fortunata when she had the chance or tripped her up so that she looked ridiculous. But the little woman would turn the tumble into a comical act and make Margaret laugh, which caused more black looks from Ann.
Daughter of York Page 10
