Will got to his feet and stayed her with his hand. “Sweetheart, have you thought more on my proposition? I lie awake at night wondering whether we shall ever be together.”
For the first time, Jane saw in his anxious face the youth that might have been Hastings thirty years before, and her heart softened.
“Aye, Will,” she said, shyly putting out her hand and touching his well-lined face. “I shall be honored to be your mistress, if that is what you wish.”
His mouth was upon hers before she could take another breath. His kiss was hard and urgent and so unlike Edward’s seductive probing kisses it almost frightened her. She was afraid he might take her there and then, and she was not ready. With the confidence of one who had loved and been loved by a king, she gently but firmly pushed him away.
“All in good time, my impatient lord,” she teased, trying to gloss over her guilt at her own lack of ardor. “Never let it be said that Jane Shore kept the lord chamberlain from his duty to the king.” She went to hold open the door. “I shall be waiting when you have need of me, but now is not the time.”
She had never seen Will Hastings look sheepish before, and again her heart warmed to him.
He kissed her more gently as he took his leave. She stood watching from the window and smiled as she observed the jauntiness in his stride. She wondered how different life with Will would be. Aye, he was a rich and powerful noble with great influence with the council, but he did not have power enough to say if a man lived or died as Edward had, and she was glad of it.
For the first time since Edward’s death, her spirits rose. Her future, as far as she could see it, was once again secured. She turned back to survey her pleasant sanctuary—hers for the time being—and thanked God for Will Hastings.
The royal procession roused Londoners from their gloom, and they were lined from Aldersgate Street outside the city gate all the way to the Bishop of London’s magnificent palace at the northwest corner of St. Paul’s. Those who arrived early had clambered up the steps to the top of the city wall and were hanging precariously over the rampart. No one wanted to miss the sight of the new king arriving in his capital city, for Londoners did not know him yet, the succession having happened much sooner than anyone could have predicted.
As soon as the sun rose on the fourth day of May, Richard of Gloucester swung himself up into his saddle with an ease of one who was rarely off a horse, traveling endlessly as he had from castle to castle, keeping the north safe for his brother. He looked around him as a thin mist rose from Hornsey Meadow and was instantly transported back to a morning twelve years earlier when he had commanded the vanguard in his first battle at Barnet not ten miles from this spot. He remembered the sour taste of fear in his mouth and the looseness of his bowels as he had led his troops forward up a marshy slope in a dense fog that blotted out all but the man next to him. He had held the line, and eventually his brother Edward had vanquished his one-time mentor, but by then enemy, the earl of Warwick. People then called him Kingmaker, Edward and Richard’s powerful Neville cousin, who perished on that misty day in April. It seemed so long ago now, Richard mused, watching his good-looking young nephew being helped into his saddle by a squire. The Barnet memory of his magnificent brother wielding his triumphant sword, his blood-spattered banner raised in victory, caused Richard’s ever-present grief to mount. By Christ and his saints, how nearly the boy resembled his father—except for his build. Edward had been a strapping youth, taller than all his contemporaries, but Ned was delicate, like his mother. The thought of Elizabeth brought him back to reality, and any sadness vanished.
“Are you ready to greet your subjects, sire?” Richard said, looking at the solemn boy-king. “I have heard all of London has turned out to welcome you. Come, let us not disappoint them.”
Young Ned gave his uncle a courteous nod, but Richard saw suspicion in his face and something like fear, and he looked away. It had not been the most jovial of reunions, he admitted, Ned having hidden behind Richard Grey when Richard and Buckingham had arrived in Stony Stratford. “Where’s my uncle Rivers?” the boy had demanded. “ ’Tis he who is supposed to take me to London, not you.”
Richard had dismounted and immediately knelt before the king, swearing an oath of fealty to him, and only then had Ned left his hiding place and accepted his uncle’s gesture with practiced, graceful thanks. After Richard explained why they would now be traveling together to London without Lord Rivers, the boy seemed to have settled into a resigned acceptance of the new arrangement, although he had cried when his devoted chamberlain had been arrested and taken away. “Your royal father, my brother, left me as protector, Edward,” Richard had told him kindly. “You would not want to defy his command, would you?” Then he had winked. “I promise I shall not be a wicked uncle,” he said, and Ned had laughed and seemed more at ease with him.
Richard now looked beyond the young king to Cousin Henry of Buckingham, who rode on Ned’s other side. A robust, florid man about the same age as Richard, Harry had given Richard his allegiance without hesitation, and Richard was grateful for Harry’s royal shoulder.
The king in blue velvet and the two royal dukes, appropriately clothed in black, were preceded by trumpeters and heralds, and soon the crowds began to thicken on either side of the Great North Road to London. Behind them, riding in tandem with Richard’s friend Lord Lovell, Will Hastings stared at Richard’s back and wondered how the Lord of the North would handle the government of the realm.
Hastings had always liked Richard of Gloucester, although now he was not sure what the qualities were that he had admired in the young, devoted duke who had remained steadfastly loyal to Edward. Aye, perhaps that was it, Will decided; Richard’s loyalty matched his own. They certainly did not have much in common apart from that, Will mused, although both had misgivings about the Woodville ambitions. Richard had greeted Will warmly the night before, and Will was confident he would retain his influence at the council table under Richard’s protectorate. He wondered if young Ned knew that, had his mother and kin had their way, the boy would have been riding today to his coronation, but the events at Stony Stratford had halted that precipitous ceremony. Surely Elizabeth could have guessed the council would not have sanctioned such a swift coronation. Aye, she was better off in sanctuary, he decided after hearing that the queen was ensconced at the abbey. He was pleased with his part in helping to thwart Elizabeth’s plans, whatever they had been, and tried to convince himself that all was well.
Atop the swaying horse, Will soon began to daydream about being with Jane. He would have to buy her another house, he concluded, certain Gloucester would evict her from Thames Street.
Soon all private musings dissolved in the cacophony of voices raised in shouts of “God save the king!” “Long live King Edward!” “God bless the duke of Gloucester!” Will and Richard gave themselves up to basking in the Londoners’ rapturous acclaim. The mayor and aldermen, arrayed all in scarlet, were the first to greet the cavalcade and make a formal welcome, followed by five hundred chosen citizens clothed in purple. The young king was bursting with pride, his handsome face pink with excitement. He waved and thanked the dignitaries as they sank to their knees and declared their allegiance.
Standing dozens deep with Ankarette on the steps of St. Paul’s, Jane’s first sight of the procession was of wagons full of arms and harness that Richard had confiscated from Earl Rivers as if to prove to the Londoners that the earl’s motives had been self-serving. As soon as they heard the herald decry this news, the crowd booed their derision of the ousted Rivers but were cheering again soon enough at the arrival of the new king at the palace gate.
Caught up in the excitement, Jane chanted “Long live the king” along with her fellow citizens. The boy looked so much like Edward that she felt her heart miss a beat. She waved at Will, who did not see her tiny figure jammed in the melee, and she stood on tiptoe to watch the horsemen disappear through the gate and into the palace courtyard. It was then she felt someone
’s hand take hers and a man lean in too close.
“Do not turn round, Jane. Meet me at dusk where we had our first tryst; I must talk to you.”
Before she could whisper his name, Tom Grey had disappeared.
As Jane sought the familiar seat behind the towering cathedral, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, she hoped Tom would not be late; she did not want to risk being out after curfew. All the way from Thames Street she had been at war with herself. He had come for her, she was sure, even leaving sanctuary and risking arrest, and thus her heart rejoiced. Yet he had waited a month without a word, which had hurt her pride. She determined not to be so easily seduced now.
She was rounding the back of the church when a hand reached out and grasped her. She would have screamed if she had not recognized the figure of her dreams. “I did not hope you would really come,” Tom said into her sweet-smelling hair. “Why did we waste nine years, sweetheart?”
Jane felt the blood rise, and every inch of her warmed to his touch, but she was no longer the young Jane Lambert with nothing on her mind but love. She pulled away however reluctantly, saying: “Why did you wait so long, my lord? The king has been dead for a month.”
Tom drew her into the shadows, irked that she had not melted into his embrace at once, but he recognized she deserved an answer. “My time has not been my own. You must have heard that I am confined to sanctuary. I wanted to see you before now, believe me, but the abbey is closely guarded. When I heard that the young king would enter the city today, I knew everyone from Westminster would be here, and I bribed a guard to let me out. I gave him my word I would be back under the cover of dark so he will go unpunished.”
“You will go back?” Jane asked, incredulous. “Why, my lord?”
“Because I promised my mother, the queen.” He pressed her hand to his lips. “I had to see you, my love, my sweet Jane.”
She could not resist him then. He tilted her exquisite face to his and kissed her waiting mouth. Her whole body thrilled to his touch, and Jane thought she would be consumed by the mutual passion in their kiss. She arched her back instinctively, and he lifted her with ease and pinned her between him and the cold stone wall. With a practiced hand, he pulled up her skirts and skillfully aroused her. Jane gasped as one after another pleasurable wave thrilled her. Gently he lowered her to her feet, and limp, she leaned against him.
“And you, my lord? How might you be satisfied?” Jane managed to ask. “Although I fear I may prove of little use now.”
“By the rood, you are irresistible,” he said, pleased with what he took to be her willingness to reciprocate. “I knew from the first moment I saw you all those years ago—and each successive time we have met since—that we were meant for each other. Do not pretend you did not feel it, too. Ah, Jane, how I have hungered for you.” He pushed her down on the seat and was about to untie his codpiece when the bells for vespers pealed above them, and, startling the two lovers, scores of squawking birds flapped off their lofty perches on St. Paul’s spire. Jane exclaimed at this untimely interruption, stood, and smoothed her skirts. She knew the moment of passion had passed and they should part.
Hearing the curfew bell of St. Mary-le-Bow, Tom took her arm and hurried her down the hill to Thames Street. “I suspect I can find a boatman to take me back to Westminster,” Tom said absently. He had come on a mission and was pondering how best to succeed when Jane came to his rescue with an innocent question.
“Why did you really risk imprisonment to come to me, Tom?” Jane asked. She was not such a fool as to believe he had done it simply to fondle her in the churchyard, and she was right.
“I may have need of you, Jane,” Tom gladly responded. “You have been left alone since Edward’s death, no? Then I would ask that, if the time comes when I can flee sanctuary permanently, I have a safe place to stay. I cannot attempt escape from the abbey yet; my lady mother has need of me there. I came to find a suitable hiding place nearby so I can help gather our supporters and regain possession of my brother, the king. We believe Richard of Gloucester is planning to take the crown for himself.”
Jane was confused. “But Richard of Gloucester is the legal protector, Tom. He has sworn to uphold his nephew’s right and see him crowned. Why would he break his oath to his brother and to his king? It does not sound like him at all.”
Tom gave an exasperated snort. “To hear you talk, I must believe you have been consorting with Will Hastings. He and Gloucester are planning something, I am sure.”
Jane had no intention of betraying Will’s trust any further. She would instead redeem her conscience by gleaning what information she could from Tom.
“I am not sure why you and her grace, the queen, took sanctuary. You must know there is a rumor in the city that you planned to rid yourself of the duke of Gloucester. Why would you do such a thing? What do you fear from him? We all want what is best for the little king, do we not? As long as he is crowned he—”
Tom was getting impatient with all these questions; he needed to leave. “Richard of Gloucester has already imprisoned my brother and my uncle,” Tom interrupted, “and the devil only knows what he would do to me, if he got the chance. His action at Stony Stratford alarmed us enough to seek sanctuary from him. Be that as it may, I am hoping you might give me shelter until I know what Gloucester will do next.” He did not elaborate.
They had reached Jane’s front door, and Tom turned her into his arms, needing to kiss her again. “What say you, Jane. Will you hide me? And when I escape next, we can be together.”
Again Jane argued with herself. She wanted to tell him that aye, she would harbor him and that she, too, longed for him. However, even though she was still mistress of this house, she was now under Will’s protection, and Will detested Tom. She certainly could not hide Tom in the house when Hastings was her lover.
Wanting to savor the moment, Jane pushed Will from her mind. “I will find somewhere for you, never fear, but it cannot be here. When I have, I will get word to you at the abbey. You may trust me to be discreet.”
Tom was puzzled. “Why not here at your house, sweetheart? No one would look for me here.”
Jane stood on the front doorstep and took his face in her hands. How unkind fate was, she thought. She had dreamed of this moment through the years, and now when she and Tom might finally be free to love each other, she was again tied to another man. She must tell Tom the truth; her debt to Will was too great to betray his trust now.
“Because I am not free,” she managed to utter. “Lord Hastings is my protector now.”
“What!” Tom almost spat, aghast. “That old man. You are bedding that paunchy, balding—”
“Soft, Tom.” Jane was stern. “I will not have Will maligned thus. At least he was immediately concerned for my welfare when Edward died. Where were you, if you profess to be so devoted?”
“Opportunist!” Tom accused his rival. “And he who was supposed to be so loyal to my stepfather must have been courting his mistress behind his back. He disgusts me.”
“ ’Tis a lie! I was faithful to your stepfather and Will was always loyal,” she cried and then stroked his bearded cheek. “Oh, Tom, do not let us quarrel. I am sorry if I disappoint you, but I must look after myself. Will offered me protection and I accepted. It does not mean I love him the way I love you.”
Tom’s face brightened. “So you do love me, Mistress Shore. I thought as much.”
She grasped his hands and urged, “Go quickly, Tom, before the watch finds you. I will come to Westminster when I have a plan.” Before he could protest, Jane had slipped inside the house, leaving her intoxicating rosewater scent lingering in the night air and Tom staring at the closed door.
Richard of Gloucester took a bold step by sitting in the king’s chair at his first council meeting a week after his arrival, but any misgivings the lords spiritual and temporal may have had with regard to the smooth transition of reigns were soon dispelled by the protector’s quick grasp of affairs and commanding leade
rship. There was no doubt who would be regent now, especially as Elizabeth’s flight into sanctuary had reinforced the council’s belief that her action had been self-serving and not for the good of the country.
Will Hastings watched with relief and hope as the lords consented and formally proclaimed Richard protector and defender of the realm, to include the governance of the young king. This was to continue until Edward came of age at sixteen in four years’ time. Will felt certain Richard would rule with a fair hand and was pleased when he declared that Will would retain his positions as the king’s lord chamberlain and captain of Calais. He was also given back his title of master of the mint.
After the preliminaries, a discussion arose as to appropriate housing for the new king, who was still lodged at the bishop of London’s residence.
“Why not at Westminster?” the new chancellor, John Russell, bishop of Lincoln, suggested.
Will immediately raised an objection: “My lord bishop, the palace is adjacent to the abbey, where the queen and her son are lodged.” His implication was backed by several lords. It was then that Henry Stafford, duke of Buckingham, began to assert his authority, which, Will noted, Richard welcomed. “The only palace fit for a king is the Tower,” Buckingham said, his rather booming voice halting the discussion. “It has housed English kings since the Conqueror, and its garrison will assure the safety of the sovereign.”
Richard nodded his endorsement of this idea. “Let us waste no time in removing the king to the Tower’s state apartments. I thank you, my lord duke, for your wise solution.”
Next the lords consulted on a new date for the coronation, and again Buckingham offered the solution, which was immediately agreed upon: the feast of St. John the Baptist.
“May I suggest, my lords,” Will began, taking the floor, “that before we can plan a coronation, we must first coax the queen and, more important, the young duke of York out of sanctuary. The people would wonder why the king’s mother and brother were not in attendance.”
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