Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga)

by Diana Rubino

  "Long live the King!" one of the bishops thundered.

  "So, do we have the loyalty of the clergy in this?"

  Now Story spoke: "Aye, we shall support you in securing the throne for King Edward in any way we can, but executing the Duke of Gloucester—do you truly prefer his head separate from his wiry body? Take him alive—you will need him as a pawn later on, surely. I just never could see the sense in killing—"

  "On that I must confer with the Queen Regent and my brother Anthony. But capture him we must. ‘Tis imperative at this point. Killing him—well, now that I think of it, ‘twould be rather like sinking to his level, would it not?"

  "In any event, my Lord, I speak for the entire church in that we much prefer a regency with the Woodvilles rather than Gloucester and his godless cohorts running the government," Alcock spoke again.

  "Have you heard the atrocities laymen committed since Golden Boy usurped the throne from King Harry? They had divers clergymen indicted for fictitious crimes, turfed them into prisons and plundered their belongings whilst they languished. Golden Boy did naught; lifted not a finger, turned his pretty face ‘tother way. Now with his brother vying for power, only the devil himself knows what he's about. I'd rather be safe in assuming the same evil Plantagenet blood doth run through his veins and get the youngster crowned forthwith."

  "We have been sallying forth with our plan, Your Excellency," Woodville replied, a little too eagerly. "And in great haste, for the longer The Hog holds authority, the more perilous for our supporters. Now, what I would share with Your Excellencies is our plan for securing the regency we devised yestermorn: myself, the Queen Regent, her son the Marquess, my brother Anthony, and Lionel—" A brief silence as he bowed to the Bishop of Salisbury.

  "We're about to surround England—literally." Silence. Anticipation. She could almost see their pupils dilating.

  "I've recently fortified the Woodville fleet with several more vessels, thanks to the portion of the royal treasure we managed to procure. We've leased two Genoese galleons, currently the largest ships in the fleet. They be currently anchored in the Downs, between the Goodwin Sands and the east coast of Kent. And I am proud to say, as commander, our fleet is on its way to grand success!"

  "Why, that is good news indeed, my Lord! And you do make a fitting naval commander; I always said if anyone's sails are full of wind, yours are," was Alcock's reply to that.

  The other bishops nodded and murmured their concurrence.

  Woodville didn't reply, only emitted a half-amused ‘harrumph' and carried on: "The two chartered Genoese galleons remain neutral, in their wish to avoid offending anyone, but I reckon they harbor more self-serving motives; one of the ship's captains is an explorer and I have a feeling he's going to ask us to raid the royal coffers to finance his expeditions in future."

  "Ballsy of him, hay? I mean, to ask the crown's financial backing." Alcock addressed the others and they nodded in agreement.

  "Nonetheless, the other vessels are securely in Woodville orbit. We're quietly launching a few of them off to Calais in order to secure it, sending a few more up the Thames to blockade the trade there and send The Hog up the river.

  "Some will head north up Scarborough way, and ‘tother way to Wales. We may even ferry Harry Tudor over if we need some surviving Lancastrian blood to show The Hog's supporters we mean business. But I greatly hasten—"

  "You, Edward?" Salisbury exclaimed in an exaggerated tone.

  "Our mission is to obliterate The Hog and his faction—and once we control trade, even the Viking navy wouldn't be able to help. They wouldn't get farther than the Orkneys anyhow!" They all guffawed in unison.

  "Have you sufficient financial backing?" asked Alcock.

  "Shall the clergy back up our faith with gold?"

  "Er, I was getting to that, Your Excellency. We've got half the royal treasure on one of those ships out there, with the other half soon to follow. So I shall call on the church for financial backing only if The Hog's supporters aren't as easily decimated as we anticipate. All we need—for now— is your loyalty, and your silence."

  "We'll be as silent as the confessional where we now stand," he replied, his tone reverent.

  Denys' heart was pounding wildly and her mouth was so dry she could hardly speak.

  She forced herself to wait until they were gone, and not the slightest echo remained.

  And she dashed out of there, tearing up the west aisle in the shadows among the marble tombs and effigies, fleeing the Abbey by the Great West Door.

  She scrambled up onto her palfrey and galloped to the Tower as fast as its legs could take her.

  Just as Valentine quit The Crown and Cushion after a pie and ale repast, he saw Dove charging up the road towards the Tower, her hair trailing behind her. Spotting him, she slowed the mount to a trot and halted as he darted out into the road to meet her.

  "Valentine! Oh, thank God!" She reached way over to embrace him and nearly fell off. "I came to see you this morn and watched you sleep for hours, oh, my darling."

  "I am fine, Dove, truly I am! We shall talk about that later. But why the haste?" he asked of her, noticing her flushed face and troubled eyes, a head-dress poking out of a bag hanging from the saddle.

  "I must get to Richard at once! Please wait for me at the house and do not disappear again, my darling!" she cried, her hand slipping out of his as she spurred the mount on.

  "Wait! I'm coming with you!" he shouted after her but she was already gone in a swirl of dust. He could tell she wasn't going to Richard for a game of draughts. Something was amiss, and he had a right to know what it was. He finally caught up to her at the entrance to the White Tower. He slid off his mount and tossed the reins to a groom.

  "Dove!" He clutched her elbow as she ran down the corridor past the guards, who nodded at her and exchanged amused glances as she sped by.

  "Valentine, this is a matter of life and death for all of us!" she said through spurts of breath as he followed on her heels.

  "What in the name of heaven is amiss?"

  "I cannot say a word with these people about! But we have little time…"

  Finally they were at the door to Richard's audience chamber. She pushed past the guards, entered his private apartments and burst in without knocking.

  Valentine could see him standing at the window, one foot propped up on the seat, studying the Stillington parchment. He'd donned a doublet, gold Yorkist collar, rings and shoes.

  And something else. The crown.

  "Richard!" At the sound of his name, he swept the crown from his head and placed it before him on the seat. He turned as Denys rushed up to him and grabbed his sleeve.

  "Edward Woodville is planning to capture you and execute you and use the fleet to blockade all the ports and take Calais! He's got the backing of every bishop on the council! Oh, Richard, I am so afraid—"

  She held back a sob, then swallowed hard as she tried to keep her composure. Oh, how she needed to be strong, now more than at any other moment in her life.

  "Execute Richard!" Valentine exclaimed. "They could not have found out this quickly!"

  "Found out what?" Denys turned to him, panting with all her exertions.

  "That Edward and Elizabeth's marriage is invalid. Prince Edward is a bastard son and Richard is King, legally and legitimately!" Valentine gushed in one breathless spurt.

  Denys gasped and, numb with shock, slid into the chair behind her.

  "Why must you be so hasty, Val, I am not King yet! We haven't even set the coronation date," Richard said, putting down the parchment.

  He turned to Denys, fixing his eyes on her. "So, start from the beginning, Dove, and tell me how you came by these rumors."

  "Nay, not rumors. I heard them all conspiring in Westminster Abbey. Saw them all with my own eyes."

  Richard and Valentine cast meaning glances at each other.

  "Did they say exactly how they plan to capture me?"

  She shook her head. "Can we escape back to Yor
kshire tonight or will that be too late?"

  "Has he launched any ships yet?"

  "Have you declared yourself King publicly?"

  "Blast it, Dove, stop asking questions and answer mine! That is an order!" His eyes aglare, he took a slight step forward and the chamber fell into stony silence as Denys bowed her head in recognition of his command.

  She took a gulp of air. "I'm sorry. My mind is in such turmoil."

  Richard motioned her to carry on.

  "They've got their ships anchored in the Downs, between the Goodwin Sands and the east coast of Kent. And they've got two Genoese galleons that are neutral. They're planning to take Calais, hasten up the Thames, blockade every port from here to Scarborough—and kill you!" This time she couldn't hold back the tears.

  The ever-composed Richard picked up a tankard and flung it across the chamber, but she could see he deliberately aimed for the bed.

  "This is the last straw!" He heaved a deep breath. "I'll have every one of them for this, those ill-breeding maggots! There won't be a Woodville corpse that's not rotting on the bottom of the Channel when I'm through with them!"

  "Dickon—wait—" Valentine grabbed Richard's doublet.

  Richard plucked his hand off like a piece of lint.

  "Oh, bollocks! I've waited as long as I could wait!" He began circling the chamber and Valentine followed. She was getting dizzy watching them.

  "Just listen to me for one moment, Dickon. Arresting and trying the entire Woodville lot and their sailors, sinking their ships—'twill make you look nothing like the benevolent lord you want to be to these Londoners. Nay, Dickon—do this:

  "Offer all the soldiers and sailors who desert the fleet a pardon—forgiveness is much more effective than just slashing throats and sinking boats. Such a virtuous and praiseworthy act will turn them into your loyal, devoted subjects. They don't want to fight the best general in the kingdom! Think of how noble, righteous, and admirable this will make you look! You'll be as adored here as in the north!"

  Richard stopped circling and finally sat in the window seat. "Admirable, you say?" He crossed one leg over the other, grabbed his ankle.

  "Nevertheless, I hereby declare Edward Woodville an enemy of the state and am putting a price on his stinking head."

  "Good enough, but will you follow through with my suggestion?"

  "Very well, then, my most trusted councillor: How do we tell them they've been pardoned? Send the message out there in the beaks of falcons?" Valentine, tapping his finger on his chin, continued circling.

  "Hmm—actually, there is only one way. We must simply approach close enough to Woodville's vessels and spread the news of the offer of pardon." Richard was listening intently. Denys didn't dare say a word.

  "We?" Richard finally asked.

  "You need summon the bravest generals you can muster, equip them with boats, have them sail up to the fleet and yell to them that they'll be pardoned if they lay down their arms and disburse forthwith. Simple, Dickon. Ever so simple."

  "Aye, I could use a few hundred more supporters."

  ‘Twould be most humiliating to the Woodvilles as well. That may be simpler than rounding them all up and whacking off their heads. Quite messy, too, I daresay."

  Richard scowled. "All over the bloody Channel."

  "This is a delicate and audacious venture and you need men with brass—" He cupped his crotch in his hand and gestured, then remembering his wife was present, pretended merely to scratch. "—er—with pluck."

  Richard looked up at Valentine and let a smile play upon his lips. "Don't let me interrupt your, uh—plucking, Your Delicacy."

  "Well—" Valentine gave an exaggerated shrug and laughed.

  Denys couldn't stay silent any longer. "Valentine, this doesn't sound very safe. I mean—'tisn't a battle in the true sense; ‘tis a peace mission, but remember who you're dealing with here. They are as cunning a den of foxes as you will ever meet."

  "Fret not, my darling; we'll secure the formidable backing of some worthy sea dogs. That Portuguese swashbuckler, Dickon—what's his name?"

  "Edward Brampton?"

  "Aye; he's the one. He would make a fitting second in command. I shall make my initial approach to the Italian galleons. You did say they were neutral, darling?"

  "Aye, Edward Woodville said they were. They're also the two biggest ships in the fleet."

  "Grand! I shall start there. A few tankards of vino, a banquet, some lively repartee, I'll have them siding with us in no time!"

  "God's truth, Val, don't you ever stop thinking about food?" Richard quipped as the two of them strode out of the chamber.

  "Wait!" Denys called after them. "What about this invalid—"

  "Shhh!" Richard called over his shoulder. "I shall talk to you after vespers, but until then, not a word!"

  Staring after the two friends as they strolled off as though they did not have a care in the world, she closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. Too shaken to think clearly, she rested for a moment and almost unthinkingly found herself riding back to Westminster Abbey, away from all the commotion, the bustling courtiers, and the sweaty bodies.

  This time she stopped at Edward the Confessor's ancient chapel. Grayish yellow carved pillars met in arches all around her, gracing the tombs of past kings and their queens and in the center rested Edward the Confessor.

  She knelt beside his tomb, its low archways cut into an elaborate carved block of stone, its Latin etchings worn with age, and prayed for the man who might become king—and for his closest councillor. In the space of only a few hours, their whole world had been turned upside down. She prayed to the Lord that Richard gaining a kingdom would not mean the loss of all she held most dear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Vespers had just ended and Valentine was on his way to Kent. Denys watched the worshipers file out of the chapel and she went to the front to join Richard once everyone had gone.

  "He will be all right," was the first thing he said to her.

  "Oh, I hope so, Richard. ‘Tis the first time he's gone to battle without you."

  "‘Tis hardly a battle, Dove. ‘Tis simply a peace mission. Negotiation. What he's best at and what I'm worst at. Aside from those old sea dogs I chose to accompany him, no one fits the part better, especially for bargaining with Italians!"

  "Still, with all that's happening here—"

  "Some day we may have to go into battle again, and even fight on separate battlefields...but on the same side, of course." The composure in his voice told her that he trusted Valentine completely, and only good times were ahead. "All will be well, I promise."

  "I've been doing naught but praying that you're right."

  "So how fares your marriage? Have you begun to detect Val's gentle qualities?"

  She smiled gently. "We all know he's got some. The real Valentine is a kind and loving man yearning to please."

  "So you realize he is not as unbearable as you once believed?"

  "Aye, he has been much more attentive of late." She smiled secretly at the memory of his touch, his fiery hot kisses, his hard body against hers...

  "I knew he would be," Richard replied.

  "But you were right. His need to prove himself does get the best of him at times." She mentally reviewed his constant quest to be the best. She felt a rush of tenderness for her husband, a deep attachment she'd never felt for anyone before.

  "But that is his more delicate side, Richard. It renders him vulnerable. It serves to make him more human."

  "I am sure it will never destroy him. But you are his wife now, Dove, and as such you must help him. We men cannot always be strong, although we appear to be on the outside. You must make sure his weaknesses do not undermine him or your marriage."

  "How do I do that?"

  Richard shrugged one shoulder. "By loving him, my dear. Simply by loving him, just as I said before, do not merely tell him, show him. Do that by making him feel that he is the single most important person in your life."
>
  They shared a smile and once again, just like those long ago days. It felt wonderful, this warm bond of friendship which endured, even through the most tumultuous events in the kingdom.

  "Does he not look at you in that special way?"

  She gave a pert toss of her head."He told me he likes the looks of my arse, but I haven't eyes in the back of my head to see how he looks at it."