Catherine hacked up a bit of unchewed crust and did not look at Benjamin. Robbie was wheeled in on a chair, pushed by a young serving man. Beside him walked a golden boy. Yellow hair, a burnished gold silk jacket, and bright brown hose. He smiled around at the women like a tiny courtier. Robbie Overton said, “Mother, this is my riding companion.”
The radiant child bent into a theatrical bow, and Veronica slid from her chair to stand before him. “I am Robbie’s sister,” she said. “And who might you be?”
“He is Guildford Dudley, Sister,” said Robbie. “Perhaps if you grow up to be beautiful, he will marry you.”
“You are Jane Dudley’s boy,” said Catherine.
“Your mother and I have served the Lady Anne of Cleves together.”
The little boy smiled up at Catherine like a mischievous angel. “I know of you, Lady Catherine. My father saved your neck when you were called bad.”
Catherine knelt. “That he did, and I will always be in his debt.” The boy smiled again. He was as perfect as a human could be, and Catherine’s heart suddenly blazed for Jane. No wonder she was so child-proud. “Your mother is a fine woman.”
“My mother obeys my father,” said the child, “but my father learns what orders to give from my mother. My mother says that you know things. She says that you have some magic in your touch.”
“My ankle does not pain me this morning,” said Robbie, wheeling between them. “Your poultice works its charm.”
Catherine turned to her son. “God puts the healing properties into the plants. The hands of mortals can only bring them to their proper use.”
She sent the serving man away and pushed the chair up to the table.
Benjamin was sitting across from them, but the boy did not greet him. Instead, he said, “Where is our Reg, Mother?”
Benjamin said, “He is rubbing down the horses.”
“Do you mean to steal my mother away so soon?”
The boy set his eyes upon the man. Guildford Dudley jumped onto a seat next to Robbie and helped himself to food. Veronica tugged on Catherine’s skirt.
Catherine said, “Benjamin has accompanied me here. He sees to the Yorkshire property for us.”
“That land will be mine one day,” said the boy. “And the house.”
“It will, Son, God willing,” said Catherine. Her hand was steady on Veronica’s head.
They finished the meal in silence, and Catherine, pleading fatigue and taking Veronica by the hand, excused herself to her rooms.
Veronica sat on the bed, swinging her legs. “Will I marry Guildford Dudley, Mother?” she asked.
Catherine laughed. “That is just boys’ talk. You will marry whomever you choose.”
“And where will I live? If my brother has our house?”
Catherine studied her daughter’s face. So serious for a little girl. She looked almost like Elizabeth Tudor. “You will live in your own home.”
“And where will that be?”
Catherine pulled her daughter onto her lap and held her. “God will show you, Vere. Keep your eyes open and see what is before them. Let no one tell you what you observe. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mother.” Veronica struggled free, and Catherine let her go.
The door opened, and Robbie’s extended foot entered, followed by Robbie himself in the chair, and the serving man pushing him again. “My ankle will be pleased by another of your poultices.”
“Come in and entertain your sister while I go and make it for you.”
Robbie said, “Get on, Vere, and my man will give you a ride in the hall.”
Veronica scrambled onto her brother’s lap, and the man pulled them out, pivoted the chair and trotted down the hall. Veronica squealed and buried her face into her brother’s chest, and he put his thin hand on the back of her little coif. Catherine watched until they got to the far window. She turned away so that they would not see her tears.
She took the servants’ stairs down to the still room, and was bent over a bowl when Benjamin’s hand touched her collar. She said, “Robbie could walk today. He could run. He has scarcely a scratch.”
“You have not even seen whose hand is on you.”
Catherine did not move. “I know your fingers well enough.”
“Your boy would run indeed if it would run me off,” said Benjamin.
“He is a little boy yet, and he is jealous of his mother.” She did not look at him. “You should see how he loves his sister.”
Benjamin put his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck. “We will be married before the summer is fully here. But I will steer clear of your son in the meantime.”
She twisted to look into his eyes. “If you think it best.”
He kissed her on the nose before he answered. “I think it safest,” he said. “He flies very near the sun.”
37
Robbie Overton decided to walk again on the seventh day. Catherine had wakened every night, drunk on the scents of the room, feeling her body change. The last morning she opened her heavy eyes to the sound of children’s voices trilling in the hall outside her chamber door. Veronica sat up and, throwing off the covers, said, “That’s my brother,” and ran out the door. Catherine followed, tying a robe around herself and straightening her nightcap, just in time to see a tiny troop charging around the far corner, Veronica trailing after them in her night dress.
“Daughter!” Catherine called. “Do not chase those boys!”
Veronica stopped and almost popped her thumb into her mouth but wiped her lips instead and hung her head. Catherine knelt and her daughter ran into her arms. “They do not want me.”
“They do not know what they want. They are just boys. Come, let us spy upon them.” She lifted Veronica and, propping her over the knot of the new baby, carried her to the stairs, where they had a view of the broad gallery below. The prince appeared, at wiggy colt of an heir, and the boys gathered about him like a stable of restless young horses. Prince Edward waved a hand, and Guildford Dudley trotted to his side. Catherine heard “How is our Robert this morning?” and her son stepped forward and bowed. He ran after the others when Edward turned on his gold slipper and dashed away.
Lady Bryan joined them.“He shows his father’s royalty in every movement, does he not?”
Catherine swallowed. “He is his father’s son.”
“Thank God for him. Your boy looks well, Catherine.
“Well enough to chase after his prince,” Catherine said. “It is time for us to travel back.”
“We will miss you. You could bide here. The king wishes for the boy to have the best care. I would like to have you by my side. Send the men away and stay.”
“It is not for me to lay hands upon the prince,” said Catherine. But for a moment, she thought on it. The beds, like soft fields. The rich food, cooked by others’ hands. But she said, “My son, as you say, is healed.”
“Ah,” said Lady Bryan. “Still, you might stay.” She patted Catherine’s shoulder and walked down the stairs, holding the hem of her skirt away from the pointed toes of her shoes.
“Will you remain here?” asked Benjamin, who had come up behind them. “Would you?”
Veronica said, “I will go. I have my own mare. I have no need of a prince. He is just a boy.”
Benjamin guffawed, and Catherine clapped her hand over the girl’s mouth.
Downstairs, as they sat for their morning meal,Robbie came skidding into the dining gallery and slid into a seat beside her. “You cannot leave, Mother. I am barely upon my feet.”
“You are flying through the air,” said Catherine, “as fast as gossip. Your prince will be glad to have you back in his company. And I must see to your home.”
The boy regarded the fish that lay upon the plate. “My home. Yes, Mother. You must go, it seems. And I must stay with the prince.” Robbi
e shoved a wad of bread into his mouth, and at a call from beyond the room, was gone. His eyes did not fall on Benjamin, and Catherine saw no more of her son all the day.
38
The Ashridge servants had them packed by the next morning, and Catherine waited in the front courtyard for Caesar to be bridled. Veronica’s little mare pawed impatiently at the gravel, and just as Benjamin came around the corner of the palace, leading his stallion, the troop of boys appeared at the front door. “The prince waits for you, Mother,” said Robbie. He cast a frosty glance at Benjamin but kept his narrow body turned toward Catherine.
She followed him inside, leading Veronica by the hand, toward the receiving room, where the ladies who kept the royal boy parted fluidly to let them through. Robbie Overton stood before them. “Sister, come and tell me good-bye.” He held out his arms and Veronica skipped to her brother. “Does our mother allow you to play all the day?”
“What?” said the child. She held up the doll but the boy ignored it.
Lady Bryan announced, “The prince will bid you farewell.”
Robbie Overton marched away, with his sister capering after him. Benjamin said, “Courage,” and held out his arm for her. They crossed the great front hall into the room where the skinny prince saw petitioners and penitents. Edward Tudor occupied a carved chair that was too large for him, and his feet struggled to find the nap of the carpet. His arms sat awkwardly along the wide sweeps of polished wood, and when he nodded, he seemed to be getting his balance on the bow of a great ship.
Robbie Overton bowed and moved to one side, folding his arms behind his back like a miniature courtier. Someone had provided him with a slim dagger which he wore on his right hip in a black leather sheath. One of his toes gently tapped the floor.
Benjamin and Catherine knelt. Veronica walked away from her brother and joined them.
The prince struggled to the floor and stepped forward. Robbie Overton stood beside him. From behind the chair stepped Guildford Dudley. The pale, royal hand came out and rested on the air above Catherine. “I give you my blessing and this warning. A mother’s example is a gem in the crown of her son’s good name. Or it is a stone in his shoe. The sin of a mother stains her children. Be virtuous, Lady Overton. And obedient.”
The benediction ended and Benjamin relaxed. He coughed lightly. The air moved, and Catherine thought someone whispered “whore,” but when she dared a glance up, she saw only the shining Guildford Dudley, whirling his bright little cape as he withdrew. Her son and her prince stood over the adults, unmoving, like a pair of righteous cherubs, stiff and formal, their expressions distant as the stars and cold as the gaze of indifferent gods.
Prince Edward waited until they had risen and then extended his hand over them again. “Go safely, Catherine Overton,” he squeaked. “Your Robert will be at our right hand.”
Catherine backed away from the diminutive blessing. Robbie embraced his sister and whispered into her ear. The prince gave her a thin gold ring set with a tiny garnet, and Veronica gasped and held it up for her mother to see.
“Your Grace is most generous,” Catherine said, hearing an echo in her head from years past.
Lady Bryan stepped forward and embraced Catherine. “Our prince is already kingly,” she whispered. “And your daughter is a beautiful girl.”
Catherine made her arms envelop the other woman for a moment. Then she led Veronica away.
Robbie did not touch his mother until they were outdoors, and when he hugged her, his arms were tight, his body stiff. “Ride with honesty, Mother,” he said. “It is a rare enough companion for a woman.”
She did not look back as they rode off. But as they turned onto the wide lane, her eyes slid off to the side. The distant building seemed painted onto the thick air. The day was already hazy with new heat.
Catherine bounced along, greeting strangers on the road with a nod, watching her palfrey’s ears twist forward and back. They passed three men at a crossroad, cloaked in old blankets. One of them wore a leather patch, and Catherine felt the one eye following her as they rode by. A fly lodged in her palfrey’s left ear, and she reached out to catch it. Mashed it and flicked it away. Rode on. The day grew warm, and she tossed off her cloak. Bored, she slid her fingers along the velvet fur again, and the animal yanked his head to the side. “My ride is annoyed with me.”
“It seems so,” said Benjamin, “but he will have to endure his misery. As do we all.”
“My son will prosper with the prince.”
“He seems to grow well enough under that sun.”
“He is not in Edward’s inner circle of boys,” Catherine said, “so he will get less of that heat. Perhaps some obscurity would be safer for him.”
“He seems safe where he is.”
“The Dudley boy is certainly a forward duckling, isn’t he? He is a friend to Robbie. It may be good for them both.”
“Yes.”
Catherine flicked the reins against her palfrey’s neck, and he flinched. “Tell me he does well there, Benjamin. Tell me that Robbie will grow up to be a good son. A good man.”
“Oh, Catherine. You ask me to foretell what no one knows. Goodness gets a foothold in a boy’s soul or it does not. And it can be dislodged any time by a kick of Fortune’s toe. He is your son and you love him.”
She sighed. “He loves the rule of law.”
“Will Fortune kick me?” asked Veronica.
“Pitchers have ears,” said Catherine. “You must seize your Opportunity by the forelock, Daughter, and drag her so that Fortune’s boots cannot get at you.”
“Look!” said Veronica. She held up her right hand. The ring sparkled in the light, and she giggled. “I am the prince’s favorite! Fortune wouldn’t dare to kick at me!”
“Quiet, Veronica,” said Benjamin. He looked back. “Do not show the ring.”
“What is it?” said Catherine.
“We passed three men, back at the last crossroad. I didn’t like their looks.”
“Were they ugly?” asked Veronica. She’d tucked her hand into her skirt.
Benjamin laughed. “Ugly as Satan. So ugly they had covered their faces.” He looked again. “I think they have let us go by.”
Catherine’s guts were icy. “How long do we ride today?” she asked.
“To the end of the light,” said Benjamin.
Catherine cocked her head and considered it. “It is such a long ride.”
Benjamin said, “Do you not trust me even to steer you right on a road?”
Catherine looked at him, but he stared ahead. Margaret’s tale had almost become a fairy story in her mind, with the man so close and her sister so far away, but memory settled in like an evil angel, spurring her indignation. It ached along her sides. They rode along for a few seconds in silence, and she decided. “I will go as far as you take us this night.”
He nodded and spurred Caesar up to Reg. They conferred, heads together. Veronica continued to admire the winking of the little stone in her ring, now hidden on her lap. Catherine settled back into her saddle and let the palfrey follow the waves of dust his master raised down the long road.
39
They walked into a village at dusk and Benjamin stopped at the first crossing to peer down the lane, left, then right. He spoke to Reg, pointed forward, and led them to the next junction. Again he looked one way, then the other. He shook his head and walked on. Reg then halloed and pointed ahead, and Benjamin waved for the party to follow him forward. They turned into the courtyard of an inn called The Red Dragon, and Benjamin threw his reins to a scrubby boy who had wandered up, scratching his head, from the stable. Catherine and Veronica rode up behind the men, and Catherine jumped to the ground and helped her daughter down. “Where are we?” she asked.
“The Red Dragon Inn, Madam,” said Reginald. He took the back door. He was too tall, and Catherine watched as he ducked and went into
what had to be the kitchen.
“I can read a sign,” said Catherine. The courtyard was cramped with piles of firewood and broken barrels. The building itself appeared to list southward, and the frames of its low-browed windows matched the short door into which Reg had disappeared.
“You will be happy enough for the night,” said Benjamin. “Wait here for me.” He threw the boy a coin and walked the palfrey and Veronica’s mare to the stable. When he returned, he was grinning. “All is quiet. We’ll be safe here.”
Catherine followed him around to the front, and let him hold the door for her and Veronica. She had to step down to enter. The rest of the men had gone in the back way, and the three of them stood in the gloomy public room. She waited until her eyes could bring shapes into being. The innkeeper called came forward and bowed. “Lady Overton. Honored to have you here. Supper is laid. I hear your road has been hard. I am glad you found your way to us.” The table was covered with roast duck and platters of carrots and leeks. Loaves of white bread and jugs of ale. Catherine took the edge of a bench and a manservant filled her cup. She sloshed the ale around until the colors of the candles, swimming in its golden surface, loosened her mind and she could swallow.
The innkeeper sat at the foot of the table and helped himself to meat. Catherine looked to Benjamin, but he was stuffing his mouth and said nothing.
“What did you say these men looked like?” the innkeeper said.
“Three,” said Benjamin through his chewing. “Wrapped up in dark clothes. Blankets over the top. I couldn’t see their faces. One had only a single eye. He wore a patch.” The innkeeper shook his head. “Not talk much of thieveries on the roads hereabouts.” He pushed the platter of meat up the table. “Never heard anything of them. No one-eyed men around here.”
Catherine said, “You two are acquainted. The Red Dragon. You are a Welshman.” Benjamin smiled into his cup. “You think we all know each other?”
Catherine’s face flamed and she chewed her lip. “I’m a fool. Forgive me.”
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