by Diana Rubino
THE CROWN OF DESTINY
BY DIANA RUBINO
TABLE OF CONTENTS
REVIEWS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EPILOGUE
AFTERWORD
AUTHOR'S NOTES
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
BIBLIOGRAPHY
THE CROWN OF DESTINY
BY DIANA RUBINO
REVIEWS
In this sequel to The Jewels of Warwick, Topaz Plantagenet's rebellion against Henry VIII gets under way, throwing England into civil war and chaos once more as Topaz seeks to restore the throne to the Yorkist family, and win for herself at last the crown of destiny she has sought all her life.
Amethyst is horrified at the extent to which her sister will go to gain power. The armed rebellion against the Tudors forces her into an impossible position. Amethyst is confronted with the most momentous choices of her life: To remain loyal to her eldest sister, or risk losing the only two men she has ever loved, King Henry, and her sister's own husband Matthew…..
This interesting historical begins with Topaz Plantagenet and her army waging war on King Henry. She feels as if she is the rightful heir to the throne of England. Her sister Amethyst is torn between her loyalty to Topaz and her loyalty to King Henry, her lover. Henry captures Topaz and throws her in the tower along with her two sons. Topaz declares that if Henry will set her free she will give up her claim to the English throne.
Amethyst comes up with a bargain that she puts to Henry. If she finds him a wife and the wife delivers him a son before the year is out, he'll set Topaz free. He agrees and Amethyst introduces Henry to Lady Jane Gray. Of course, Jane delivers Henry a son but dies after childbirth. Henry is disconsolate but gives Topaz her freedom.
Then Amethyst has an affair with Topaz's husband Matthew and becomes pregnant, so Henry marries her off to a petty nobleman. Amethyst's life becomes a nightmare.
This book is rich in scenes about the history of this time. I could picture the court and the people in my mind as I read this fascinating novel. Romantic Times
"A perfect ending to the saga – or is it? Having read all four books in the series, I was expecting there to be some letup in the thrills and action, but this book was even better than I had hoped for. All of the characters' fates were apt ones, and of course the happily ever after ending came, but in some unexpected ways. The action and adventure were super. All I can say is, these books cry out for a sequel. Gorgeous settings and excellent historical research make this series, and this last book in particular, well worth reading." An Amazon reader in Seattle
ABOUT THE AUTHOR, DIANA RUBINO
Having lived in England for several years, I devoted much time to research. My membership in the Richard III Society, with access to its library and the invaluable assistance of its Research Officer, has given me an additional wealth of material.
My publication credits include stories in Espionage and Fiction Writers Monthly, among other periodicals. I also served as Editor/Staff Writer of a Washington D.C. trade association in the late 1980s. I am a current member of Romance Writers of America.
When I first penned this series in the mid-1990s, no one could have predicted the runaway success of the television series The Tudors. Thanks to the renewed interest in that fascinating period of history, it seemed time to dust off this book and give it a whole new lease of life through electronic publishing.
My interpretations of the King through the eyes of the women who alternately love him and despise him are of course entirely my own, but I have tried to be as accurate as possible in my use of the sources available to me at the time I was writing this series.
Henry was a fascinatingly complex modern man; I hope you enjoy reading this conclusion to the Yorkist Saga as much as I did writing it.
D. R.
April 2011
ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
THE YORKIST SAGA
Destiny Lies Waiting
Thy Name is Love
The Jewels of Warwick
THE NEW YORK SAGA
I Love You Because
It Was Like This
THE CROWN OF DESTINY
BY
DIANA RUBINO
Dedication: To Janet
Copyright the author 1999
Second edition 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Under the 1988 UK copyright laws, the author asserts the right to be identified as the creator of this work.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by HerStory Books
New York, New York
http://HerStoryBooks.com
CHAPTER ONE
Lytham St Annes, Lancashire, Northwest England
Topaz Plantagenet was doing what no woman had ever done in the history of England – going to battle for the crown she felt was her destiny ever since her father had been put to death by Henry VII after Richard III had lost the battle of Bosworth Field.
Refusing to give in to weariness, she returned to the cliff-top as the sun finally set, her horse stumbling now and again on the uneven surfaces of the long-abandoned trails that wended their way through the district. It had been another glorious clear day, finally giving way in a blood-red haze to darkness.
Her brow furrowed as she squinted out to sea, but it was not the setting sun, in its last dying throes, that troubled her. Where were they? Why weren't they here yet? For three days now she and a handful of loyal followers had been waiting at this desolate spot for her Continental allies to join her and depose Henry VIII at last.
The location had seemed a perfect choice when they had all been plotting around the table with Sir Thomas More, safely ensconced within the walls of Warwick Castle by a roaring fire, but she was not so sure now. The isolated cove, nestled back down the trail and surrounded by jagged sentinel cliffs of rock, was a cursed place seldom visited by the living. Even the bolder warriors in her party, veterans of many a bloody campaign, seemed to sense the grim atmosphere. None of them would make their camp tents within the bounds of the ancient ruins.
She shuddered, not from the westerly breeze, bringing with it another night edged with chill, but at the forsaken, desolate landscape. The breeze that swirled round the cliff was evil, the sweltering sun drifting away to cast its heat upon a more blessed land. Her heart pounded at every rustle of the wind in the gorse and ferns, sole inhabitants of this barren cliff-top, and she sensed that even they wished her gone.
She chided herself out loud, patting her horse on the side of his neck, not so much to comfort the animal as to reassure herself. Raili
ng at phantoms! If the men could see her now, after the way she had derided them for their fear of the troubled spirits rumored to walk these bleak cliffs and populate the long-dead hamlet below.
A thriving seaport two hundred years ago, the cove was now a tomb. Even before the final deadly raid, when the French had landed in the mist to slaughter every last unwary villager before taking their plunder, the accursed place had been blighted. It had suffered the lawless butchery of countless pirate raids, and twice been stricken with the Black Death. The hangman's noose had seldom been empty when people had lived there, for when no other enemy was afoot the village would fall upon its own with accusations of witchcraft, conspiracy or smuggling.
Small wonder then that this grim place had finally been forsaken by mortal man, but not forgotten. Even now, few men would walk this coastal path by day and none dared venture forth by night. The devil himself had been spotted here just two years hence, leaving cloven hoof prints in the barren earth, or so they had been told by the elderly fisherman living in the cottage by the fork in the coastal road that had led them here.
"Bad rum, superstition and wandering goats have conjured up many a devil!" she had laughed, and in the warm summer breeze, her men had laughed with her.
Now they clustered uneasily, cheek to jowl around their campfires in the twilight, taking courage from strong ale and adding new embellishments to the well-worn tales of their own bravado that would see them to their bedrolls.
No, she decided, straightening her back and deciding to make the best of her situation, the choice had been a good one, a perfect one. None better could be found to shield their venture from prying eyes. Who cared if dead men did roam these ways, for dead men could not warn Henry of her rebellious plot against him to win the crown for herself at last.
The sky was now streaked with a few feathery lavender bands and she dismounted in order to gently turn her steed and descend the steep course back. She would walk ahead and lead the creature safely down the derelict path just as she had the last two nights.
As she picked her away carefully along in the twilight, she wondered, could she stand another day's wait? She would have to, for she could not forsake this quest, or all her lifelong dreams would be ruined, just as the town in which she and her men were camped had been left in ruins.
She took a dozen steps before the glint of a solitary lost ray of sunshine on polished steel in the distance caught her eye. Her pulse quickened again. Had they come at last? Or were these Henry's ships about to thwart her desires? Had he somehow been made aware of her treachery? Had she been a fool to trust old man Bridgeman? She had made him Captain of Arms at More's insistence, entrusted him with a small fortune in gold, and charged him with raising an army abroad, and on what basis?
His only references had come from his own mouth. He could not account for his whereabouts for almost half of his seventy-eight years, and these he was rumored to have spent in various prisons and gaols, not least of which was Newgate Prison.
Yet Bridgeman's character was such that she could not help herself but trust the rogue. No one else had need of the poor used-up old wretch that he was, and he knew it. Without her cause he would have no purpose left but to wither and die, this she was sure of. He could never betray her. She had seen beyond his gnarled ugly husk and broken gait. She had found rare qualities within him, not all goodly, but certainly useful. He had an eloquent manner, a practiced poise, a charm that she had never seen before.
He could bargain, too, all but pick a man's pocket and be thanked for the deed! He spoke many languages, or so he claimed. She could test only his Latin and French, both of which were flawless, but the guttural growls he said he'd learnt in the East beyond the edge of her maps she could never hope to understand lest she were to become a bear or a she-wolf.
But she was a bear, and he would serve as her ragged staff to lean upon. Even as she thought of it, she could see her family's standard raised high above the vessel now looming ever larger in the dimness of the approaching night. It was the coat of arms of the Earl of Warwick, the bear and ragged staff, and it had good reason to fly proudly.
With all caution cast aside, she leapt into the saddle in a most un-queen-like manner and spurred her mount to full gallop down the incline.
The rowboats, oars skimming the water like a restless waterbug's legs, slid ashore at Saint Annes on the west coast, fifty miles north of Wales as the crow flies.
The mercenaries were here at last! She ran to the tent of John, her first general, to relay the good news. He was having his nightly shave before a cracked mirror.
"That is bad luck, dear friend, but this news should quell any suspicions, for today, anyway. They are just about to land. They've come, finally!"
"Good. Just remember, they think they're in Ireland now to extinguish a minor dissension."
She nodded. "Aye, I won't forget."
Topaz and John strode to the edge of the campsite and could see the two vessels being anchored as close to the shore as they dared. Men began spilling out of the boats in twos and threes, tripping over each other to set foot on land, looks of muddled perplexity on their faces.
A swarthy seafarer swaggered towards John and Topaz, mumbling to himself, the bedraggled men behind him regarding the unfamiliar landscape with dazed awe, heads turning in every direction.
"What idiot picked this landing spot?" he shouted over his shoulder to the confounded group, heads shaking and shoulders shrugging in reply.
A few of them had their fingers curled around their hilts, swords at the ready, prepared for the ambush they deemed inevitable. Others simply looked numb.
He approached Topaz with what she could now discern as an uneasy gait and shot John a passing glance. "Wench! Where is thy master? I'll box his ears... Nay, I'll run him through! What better place for an ambush? We're lucky the rebels didn't slay every last one of us!"
Topaz folded her arms across her chest and glared at the captain, and she noticed him take a tiny step back. "Call me wench, do you? You will speak to me with the respect due the rightful and future Queen of England!"
"England? I have no quarrel with Henry and his legions!" A look of horror crossed his features. Then he thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. "God's blood. I was tricked by that Methuselah Bridgeman! We spent the entire voyage playing backgammon and following the stars, when I should have been checking the rogue's charts to find out where we were really going!"
He turned, ready to leave as suddenly as he had arrived.
"No stomach for a fight then, you coward?" she sneered.
He wheeled on her furiously. "There be no cowardice in wanting to live. I want nothing to do with any war against Henry, son of the Tudor warrior tribe! I only have my regulars. You would need the entire army of Spain to put down Henry! He will gut us and leave us for the dogs to eat!"
"Well, then, if you think so little of your band, take your scurvy, pox ridden pond-scum and go back whence thee came, you worthless band of brigands!" Topaz spat.
The captain reeled back in shock, his eyes darkening to the color of the blackened sea. "Where's Bridgeman?" he demanded, flinging the words at his men. "He promised Ireland. He promised more gold and bountiful treasures than I could ever imagine. Fetch him! Clap him in irons and bring him to me! Fetch the knave! Let him tell me where his thirty thousand good men and true are! Let him show me his gold!"
"No wonder he wanted to be last off the boat!" one of the men, on the outskirts of the group, spoke up.
Just as the words left his lips, an explosion shattered the air about them and a flaming blaze of fire lit up the coastline as if the very sky had exploded before their eyes. All heads turned in shock before the men hurled themselves to the ground.
The muscular captain threw himself in front of Topaz, shielding her from the flying debris, chunks of wood and canvas that had been the mercenaries' ships hurtling towards her. The missiles would have most likely beheaded her had he not wrestled her to the ground.
/> When the dazed men finally looked up in disbelief, one of them bellowed, "There he is, the bastard!"
A withered figure silhouetted against the flames emerged from the billowing smoke in a small rowboat, stooped over the oars, laboriously rowing toward shore.
The men scrambled to their feet and the captain at last relinquished his hold on Topaz. She straightened her skirts with a twitch, dusting off the sand as best she could, and adjusted her headdress.
His rowboat skimmed up the beach and several of the men sprinted up to old Bridgeman, violently rocking the boat until he tumbled out, sprawling onto the sand. He stumbled to his feet, brushing off the questions the men were hurling at him. His watery eyes skimmed the group and fixed on Topaz. He smiled cheerily.
"Ireland? By Jove, do I have a terrible sense of direction! It must be my poor befuddled brain, did I say Ireland? I never could read charts properly since I lost the sight of my left eye!" He approached Topaz and took her hand in his, kissing it gallantly.
