Thy Name Is Love (The Yorkist Saga)

by Diana Rubino

  "Do you really mean that?"

  "Aye, I do."

  "Who do you think his heir should be?"

  "Well, the Bill of Attainder against George bars his son from the succession," Valentine replied. "Mayhap he would name his sister Elizabeth's son, Jack de la Pole. He is Richard's eldest nephew who's untainted, and God willing, will have reached his majority when the time comes."

  Denys smiled. "Oh, how happy it would have made George to see his son ascend the throne. And Richard loved George so."

  "Well, he should make the decision soon. There is no shortage of more distant claimants, like Lady Margaret Beaufort, who might put in a claim if the succession isn't secure."

  "That would be quite a coup, indeed, as there's no precedent for a female monarch. And Henry Tudor's mother, of all people! Is it that she's never been considered a threat?" she asked.

  "Ah, well, and the fact that she's subtle and stays out of the way, quietly financing her son's invasions. As she wants none of the glory for herself, only for him."

  "Out of the way she certainly is. I've never even seen her."

  "She keeps a safe haven in Wales."

  "Valentine, do you think England will ever have a queen?"

  "Aye, some lucky lady will be born to rule. Alas, though, not in our lifetime."

  "Mayhap in our children's."

  "Speaking of our children..." He took her in his arms once more and she echoed the sentiment as they made love. A babe would truly make her life complete. That and finding her parent's identities so she could put her past to rest once and for all…

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  "We received an interesting bit of correspondence today," Valentine said as his Esquire of the Body removed his shoes and replaced them with comfortable slippers.

  Taking his ambiguous tone the worst way, Denys clutched her hands to her girdle before they began trembling.

  She knew how Valentine made light of the most threatening dangers—he but thrived on adversity, all the more so he could vaunt his aplomb in righting it. "Oh, no, what now?" He eased her anxiety with a comforting smile. "Nay, ‘tis intriguing, good tidings, from that Genoese captain who'd been with the Woodville fleet. His name was Cristoforo Colombo."

  "Aye, the one who caused the fleet to disperse." He gave her a hard look and she gave him her most appreciative smile. "Sorry, my darling; I know ‘twas you who caused the fleet to disperse. He merely followed your suggestion."

  "Thank you, my dear. Anyway—" A smile of his own appeared. "He reiterated his theories about the world as we don't know it, and Richard took it for what it was worth."

  "How so?"

  "Well, a teaser if you will, to secure an invitation. He now believes he can find the Orient by sailing west. And he wants to come to court to explain just how he claims he can do this."

  "I have heard that before. The Irish sailors have a strong belief that land lies to the west. I remember Peter the sailor lad talking about it incessantly on that disastrous journey to Wales. He spoke of legendary voyages galore."

  "Well, Richard has extended an invitation to Colombo, not just out of curiosity for what lies to our west, but out of kingly graciousness, in return for leading the disbanding of the Woodville fleet. And if our presumptions are correct, the man should be arriving upon our shores again forthwith.

  But Richard is no fool. Of course we know his underlying motive for these missions."

  "Why, of course! He wants to discover the unknown boundaries of the vast and stormy Ocean Sea, to explore far-flung exotic lands that lie beyond anything our wildest imaginations can even perceive!"

  "We figured it for a more mundane reason. Riches. And to achieve riches, he will need someone to invest in his grandiose missions. And invest rather generously."

  "Well, you must admire the man for his knowledge of the seas, not to mention his bravery, his strong beliefs in what most common folk wouldn't dare dream of! Would you not want to leave a legacy to live throughout the ages?" Valentine squared his shoulders and stared her down.

  "Have I not already? As Chancellor of England, I shall live throughout the ages!"

  "You may be a prince among men to your tenants and the villeins who depend on you for their sustenance, but in the grand scheme of things, we are but specks of dust crawling about a tiny island realm. Just ponder what lies beyond! Your service to the kingdom will pale in comparison to what Colombo could find should he succeed."

  "Oh, Dove, you and your chimerical visions! We suffer enough strife trying to keep this land from impending invasion and destruction without fretting over what lies on the other side of the Ocean Sea, if anything. If exotic lands lay out there, do you not think some intrepid seadog would have found it already? Besides, Marco Polo found the Orient.

  We well know where it is!"

  "Ah, but not by sea, Valentine, dear. This sea theory is thought-provoking indeed. Listen carefully to the man when he arrives. I certainly plan to. I think we are about to embark upon a turning point. And I would very much like to hear about it firsthand! This time I shall meet the man who thinks he can touch the far corners of the world. I never knew he was such a brilliant navigator with such progressive ideas.

  "George described him as if he'd come here simply to sample the inebriants before moving on to his next banquet."

  "Oh, Dove..." Shaking his head, he pulled her down to sit upon his lap. "Wherever do you get this insatiable hunger for those ethereal elements we cannot see nor hear nor reach?"

  "I know not. Possibly from my mother, whoever she was. If that be the case, I may never know."

  "I can see you and this idealistic Colombo soul chatting for hours about the almosts and the what-could-have-beens and the mayhaps that stretch from here to infinity."

  "Valentine, remove your blinders, look beyond the coast of Cornwall for just one minute and imagine what lies beyond the ocean sea! No one knew Greenland was there before the Norse found it. Perhaps the Genoese sailor is more perceptive than you think. This does not sound like it all came to him in a fleeting dream. You know what a tenacious lot the seafaring Genoese are. They are maritime geniuses, cartographers and astronomers of the most learned caliber. I would receive him here, in this very house, should the court not find him absolutely fascinating."

  "Go and chase your mystical faraway lands, my darling. As for the King and myself, we have a kingdom to rule; aye, of diminutive proportions indeed when you consider what may be beyond our shores, but to us, the entire world weighs upon our shoulders."

  The royal outer chamber was thronged with councillors, nobles and curious hangers-on clamoring to catch a glimpse of this sailor whose intriguing theory was kindling many an imagination. But Valentine was not among them. He was busy putting the finishing touches on the creation of the Council of the North, of which he was the newly appointed President.

  But Denys was there. She'd already formed a heartfelt empathy for this fellow journeyer, whose lifelong quest mirrored her own. He too searched for something he might never find, yet no one could ever discourage him. She didn't want to miss meeting him a second time. She planned to sit him down in the privacy of the inner chamber, away from the gawking crowd, probe deep into his soul and learn the forces that drove him beyond what terrified lesser men. She wanted to offer her blessings and the encouragement, borne of her own quest for truth, to never give up in the ugly face of adversity.

  Her eyes swept the chamber, scanning the overworked councillors' haggard faces. Pages scurried about with piled up trays. Voices clashed around her like a section of untuned viols. Then through a parting in the crowd she distinguished a pair of sharp blue eyes as he glanced her way, his hands slicing the air in a display of elaborate gestures as he spoke.

  He stood in vibrant contrast to the pallid English countenances around him. An olive-skinned man stood close by, relaying his every word.

  He looked away but she kept her eyes locked on his. He riveted his focus once more in her direction and she knew she'd evo
ked the smile that she returned.

  She made her way up to him through the crowd and after a minute they were introduced. His interpreter stood at his side, relaying Colombo's confession that his English was far from fluent, and unfortunately Genoese wasn't among the languages of the English nobles. Richard had already asked him if he spoke French, and he replied that his French was halting. So he stuck to Genoese through his interpreter, who presented himself as Silvio.

  Colombo took Denys' hand and kissed it as she dipped him a curtsy. "Cristoforo Colombo, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Denys, Duchess of Norwich," was translated by Silvio.

  "Means slowly," Silvio said. "And what better name for an interpreter?" Colombo gave an exaggerated shrug, throwing his hands up with a flourish that she found engagingly charming. His hands, so dexterous at accompanying the nuances of his phrasing, needed no rings in order to sparkle.

  Up close, he was tall and well-built, his ruddy features glowing with the roughness of the seas he traversed. The aquiline nose toted a light scattering of freckles. The eyes were sharp, piercing, reflecting her own passion for truth.

  The wavy red hair brushing his collar had nearly faded to white, but he was not an old man. As the melodious language flowed from his lips, she stared, awe-struck. Here was a man who'd been to places she'd only dreamed about, and had the desire to go even farther. She was bursting with questions, and when Richard led him and Silvio into the receiving chamber, she followed closely. "I am not letting him out of my sight, Richard. I want to meet someone who is as obsessed as I am with finding the nearly impossible," she said to the King in a half-whisper. Richard returned her sparkling gaze with a mildly amused half-smile and nod of agreement.

  "Tell me where you have been, Sir Colombo. Tell me about the distant shores on which you've stood, and then tell me where you plan to go next!" she gushed after servitors brought them tankards of wine with plates of cheese and fruit.

  Through Silvio, he relayed his more recent voyages to Ireland and Iceland. He described his first long voyage, to the island of Scio in the Aegean, "The birthplace of Homer," he said. "The island is the gateway to the Orient, the most enchanted land in the world as we know it," he continued.

  "Their costumes are full of color, overflowing with silks, pearls, gems that would make your mouth water. Scio is a wondrous island. Her main commodity is mastic." Denys winked at Richard, knowing this was but one of an abundance of unknown delights from the world's far reaches.

  Colombo signalled Silvio, and the interpreter proceeded to place several gift boxes before the King. Thanking him, Richard opened the boxes and lifted out several delicate bottles in glittering colors, decorated in gold leaf. Their stoppers diffused the sunlight streaming through the window, and cast rainbow ribbons onto the table.

  Silvio translated Colombo's words: "The glass vessels are Venetian, made by Mastro Pietro, our most famous glassblower.

  They are very delicate and are my gifts to you. They contain mastic, from the mastic tree. It is used to make perfume, sweets, and..." He indicated four covered drinking vessels filled with the cloudy liquid, "this is to be sipped, rolled around the tongue and savored, like the finest wines.

  It is grown throughout the Mediterranean, but southern Scio's mastic bark is readily distinguishable from any other, for it yields the most aromatic and redolent scents and tastes.

  The Turkish sultan consumes enormous quantities of it for his..." Silvio faltered, as if searching for the right word.

  "...many women." Denys pulled the glass stopper from one of the bottles and took a whiff of the exotic elixir. It was heady indeed, stinging her eyes with its pungent aroma. Its mystical essence certainly surpassed English rose and lavender oils, which were downright stale by comparison.

  "Of all the sensual beauties on Scio, the scents spurred my imagination," Colombo said through Silvio. "My sense of smell is my strongest, a necessary requirement for navigating the seas in order to detect winds and currents, but it was Scio that inspired me to push on for what lay beyond.

  It is a land of enchantment, an awakening of the spirit." As he spoke, Richard ventured a sip of the mystical mastic and barely suppressed an abhorrent grimace. Trying hard to mask a smile, Denys turned, re-fixed her gaze on the sanguine Genoese and continued to bombard him with questions.

  They learned quite a bit during those first few hours of their acquaintance with the Genovese, most importantly that he'd recently appealed to the King of Portugal for financing of his voyage across the Ocean Sea but was rejected.

  Though he hadn't yet asked, she had a feeling Valentine had been right and this visit was indeed to solicit the English crown's backing. Richard's offer of financial assistance did not come tumbling out of him, however.

  Denys wanted to hear much more about the voyages, the exotic lands and peoples, not even wanting to broach the subject of finances. All too soon he had to leave for an appointment with Richard's newly created Admiralty Office.

  When the Genoese and his interpreter parted the chamber, Denys leaned forward to address the King.

  "Richard, he is the most fascinating person I have ever met. He is so much like me in the sense that he wants to find what he knows is out there, and is willing to overcome all obstacles to do it! Oh, he is such a dauntless spirit!" He drummed his fingers on the table. "Not dauntless enough. Or was it politeness that kept him from urging me to raid the treasury?" He raised a brow and laugh lines creased his cheek.

  "‘Twas only your first meeting, Richard. He is adhering to protocol. Mayhap he is waiting for you to offer it to him. Would you consider having the crown finance his expedition?"

  "Dove, if I were simply a wealthy nobleman with time on my hands, without a vexatious burden of expenses, I would consider the possibilities of capital gain in financing his odyssey. But my burdens here within my own realm border on the unbearable, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to offer him the assistance and support he seeks." Adjusting his cloak, Richard rose, but she reached across the table to pull him back down.

  "Oh, Richard, sit down for once, take a few moments out of your work-laden life and experience something not of this land!" She held one of the delicate bottles out to him and he looked away, fanning his hand through the air.

  "Take a whiff of this bouquet, Richard! ‘Tis something out of a dream!"

  "I thought it was something out of Houndsditch," he retorted, wrinkling up his nose. "It pongs." She impatiently tugged on a tendril of her hair and tossed it over her shoulder. The King sighed wearily and, pressing his palms on the table, stood and headed for the door.

  "Oh, Richard, you and your stodgy English isolationistic partiality! Colombo is fairly bursting with confidence and he has the knowledge to back it up! Mayhap the King of Portugal missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime. You should consider being a part of this dream."

  "I cannot go chasing dreams at the moment, Dove," he replied, his fingers wound round the door's golden handle.

  "Were I lounging upon a pile of silken pillows like the Turkish sultan, my most pressing decision being which concubine to tumble next, perhaps I could. But if whatever else lies beyond is anything like that potion...ugh!..." He pointed to the bottles of mastic. "...'tis worse than anything Bess Woodville's harpy ever brewed up. I shall stick to my simple hippocras, thank you."

  "So he has just been turned down by another monarch?"

  "He has my heartfelt prayers, but I cannot back them up with gold. I could not begin to fit him with a fleet of ships; I have my own navy to build."

  "Oh, I do wish we could help him. There are lands beyond the ocean that need exploring."

  "And there is a land beyond this chamber that needs governing. So to work I must return." And with that he was out the door, his cloak trailing behind him.

  She sat and thought for a long while, slowly sipping the wondrous ambrosia brought to her lips from so far away.

  The explorer was given a mixed reception at court. The King was as gracious
a host as ever, seating Colombo on the dais at his side, assigning ushers to give him grand tours of the palace and Westminster Abbey, and inviting him on a hunting expedition which he declined, knowing nothing of the sport. But others were not so accommodating, notably the skeptics who saw him as a romantic adventurer too outlandish for their pragmatic minds.

  Valentine renewed his acquaintanceship with the captain cordially enough, but he and his fellow councillors weren't above sharing a taunt or two when the explorer was out of earshot. "Don't imbibe that Scio plonk, Richard," she heard her husband warn the King between mouthfuls of roast swan. "I heard the English translation for mastic is willie-wilt." And she watched as the King's amused grin slowly unfolded into a burst of hearty laughter. He brought his hand to his face, shaking his head, casting a sideways glance at his guest of honor, who was enjoying the lavish feast, oblivious to the bawdy humor charging the air.