Robert’s green eyes twinkled with laughter as he held a dish of cheesecakes before Cicely. ‘You sit there without eating, my lady. Will you not partake? I vow they are the finest ever baked.’
‘You are kind, sir, but I am too nervous to eat.’
‘Nervous? Why so?’ He discarded the cheesecakes and lifted a small dish of flowers of violet instead. ‘Then these surely cannot offend.’
She took some of the sweet confection, and paused. ‘I do not really know why I feel like this,’ she confessed.
‘Then you have no business feeling it at all,’ he declared firmly.
She smiled and slipped the confection into her mouth, but as she savoured the honey taste, a great roar of approval was raised as the final great dish of the banquet, called a subtlety, was carried in upon a golden platter and placed before Richard and the queen. Such dishes were served at the end of every course of a banquet, but this one was the most splendid of all. The exquisite mixture of sugar and eggs was formed into the shape of the Virgin and Child, and was particularly beautiful.
Richard laughed aloud when he saw it, and lifted his goblet in a toast. The cheers that followed made known the court’s delight. After that his attention was required to other small ceremonies, and John moved closer to engage the queen’s attention.
Anne wore the cherry and gold gown, but seemed lost inside it. There was a trace of her beauty, but it was very faint, and she tried so hard to be strong but had often reached for Richard’s hand. It was something Cicely found hard to watch, because he was being deceived. John was dressed in green, the green of Sherwood, and his father’s badge was on his collar. He smiled at his stepmother, and was as kind and attentive as Richard himself would have been.
The king missed nothing. His hand went momentarily to John’s arm, a gesture of appreciation even while he was diverted by so much else, and in that small moment, that fleeting acknowledgement from father to son, Cicely loved them both all the more. She had believed herself happy in her father’s court, but the court of her uncle, Richard III, made her even happier.
Glancing around, she saw Jack, who raised his cup to her and winked. His almost black curls were as untrammelled as ever, and his dark brown eyes had that lazy warmth that could so easily seem to caress. She found herself blushing. Everything about roguish Jack de la Pole suggested he was a consummate lover. He was said to have left a trail of broken hearts behind him, and she could well believe it. Had she herself not wondered what it would be like to lie with him?
Many of Richard’s friends and supporters were present tonight, and his true allies, but she knew Margaret, Lady Stanley, was not his only enemy. There was perfidy in the air, intercepted glances, pursed lips, bland faces that gave nothing away, except perhaps to the Devil. She could hardly bear to think of Richard being surrounded by false friends as well as implacable enemies. Why could they not see what a good king he was? How he was essential to England? Why did they not see him as she did? And if that were beyond them, why did he not deal with them as her father would have done? Why? She was unswerving in her support for Richard. Left to her, he would not long have such enemies.
She needed distraction from such dark thoughts, and what better distraction could there be than John? Richard’s attention was all on Anne again, and so John returned to sit with Cicely, Sir Robert Percy making room for him. If John were legitimate, she thought, he would be a truly worthy heir to his father’s throne. He still was, if such a thing were to ever be permitted. She smiled then, because if he were legitimate, she would not be allowed to marry him! There could not be an illegitimate Queen of England. It was another thought she did not wish to entertain, because for John to be king, Richard would have to be dead.
John turned to her suddenly. ‘Why has not Bess come down?’
‘I think she must be indisposed,’ Cicely replied tactfully.
‘Perhaps you should go to her. My father has asked where she is.’
‘He has?’ Cicely’s heart sank.
‘Yes, and knowing him, he is likely to ask again. He expects his brother’s eldest children to be here tonight.’
What of Edward and Dickon? Cicely could not help the thought, for although Richard had permitted her mother to visit the princes at the Tower on one occasion, no one else had been so allowed. They were lodged in the Garden Tower which apparently suited them admirably as they could indulge in all manner of boyish activities in the bushes and gardens which surrounded it. Dickon was full of his apparent prowess at archery, and Richard’s Constable of the Tower, Sir Robert Brackenbury, was well liked by them both. He took them occasionally to the Lion Tower and permitted them to watch the king’s leopards and suchlike beasts that were kept there.
Now the boys were not seen at all, and Richard had told her, in the strictest confidence, that he had sent them elsewhere for fear of another attempt to abduct them, such as John Welles had attempted just before Buckingham’s rebellion. Welles, although free, had now fled the country and was said to be in Brittany with his half-nephew, Henry Tudor.
A little whispering had begun about the princes’ whereabouts. Or their dreadful fate. It was beginning to be suggested that their disappearance indicated a dark deed had been done at Richard’s command, and their failure to be seen only fanned these nascent flames. Cicely had urged Richard to produce her brothers and put a stop to it, but he had not, preferring to keep them safe in obscurity. Maybe he was right, but somehow she did not think he was.
John sensed what she was thinking. ‘Your brothers are safe, Cicely. My father would never harm them. You know that as well as me.’
Cicely managed a little smile. ‘I know, for he has told me so, and I believe him. I always do. I wish they could be free and here now, though. Well, one of them. Dickon is all I could wish for, but Edward is . . . an odious little sack of self-importance.’
John was taken aback. ‘Really? You have not said that before.’
‘No, because I have always hoped he would change, but when Mother saw him at the Tower she said he was as irksome as ever. Apparently he behaves as if he is still the only person of importance in England. It is time for him to accept his new lot. I have had to.’
‘How very disapproving you are,’ John said sternly.
She smiled. ‘And in the season of goodwill. Shame on me.’
He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘You are perfect in my eyes, Cicely Plantagenet.’
‘And you in mine,’ she whispered, closing her eyes with the pleasure of his lips against her skin.
Something made him glance up at a gallery behind the royal dais, and she saw the three small, very sleepy faces of her youngest sisters peeping through the carved balustrade. They had been brought from Sheen to enjoy the Christmas festivities. He took her hand and they hurried up to speak to them. Little Bridget was almost asleep, but five-year-old Katherine squealed with delight and ran to them.
John caught her and swung her up high. ‘Well now, my little lady, and how are you enjoying the celebrations?’
Katherine was excited. ‘It is all so pretty. The ladies are so beautiful. One day I shall have a gown that is like a rainbow, and lots of jewels, and I will dance with all the princes.’
‘Slow down, sweeting,’ he laughed, ‘for you must grow a little first. There is plenty of time yet! ‘ He put her down and turned to see young Ann—whom everyone called Annie—still peeping over into the hall. ‘And what of you, Annie, do you try to seek your future lord in that crowd?’
The nine-year-old slate-blue eyes turned fully towards him and she smiled shyly. ‘I have tried, but I cannot see Thomas Howard. Do you think he will be handsome? Maybe he is not here tonight. I hoped he would be. I want to be a duchess one day.’ Pouting, she looked at the hall again. ‘If I was old enough I would be down there dancing and not sitting in my room in a sulk like Bess.’
Cicely was concerned. ‘A sulk?’
‘She is dressed for the banquet but will not go down. She told me to go away. I think she h
as been crying.’
John looked quickly at Cicely, and with a nod she slipped away.
She found her sister alone by the fire, and the sight of her took Cicely’s breath away. Bess was wearing the gown of cherry and silver brocade. At her throat shone a diamond necklet with a solitary black drop pearl, and her hair was held back by a small lace cap.
Caught unawares by her arrival, Bess struggled to compose herself. ‘What brings you here, Cissy?’
‘Annie told us that you were unwell. I have left John with our sisters. Why have you not come down, Bess?’ Cicely sat in a chair opposite.
Bess smiled wryly. ‘Can you not see for yourself? I did go as far as the gallery, but when I saw the queen, I could go no further. Cissy, the gowns are far too similar. I dare not present myself because it will look as if I seek to challenge Anne. Everyone talks of me as it is without it being any worse.’
‘Bess, the king has noticed your absence.’
Bess closed her eyes. ‘My absence, but not me.’
‘Do not pick my words apart, Bess. He has noticed, and John believes he may ask again because he expects you to be there as well as me. You cannot stay away. Come, you will be with me, and with John, I am sure, for he knows nothing of it all and will gladly stand beside you.’
‘You have not told him?’
‘That my sister wants to bed his father? I think not. Whether or not he knows from elsewhere I do not know. He has never said anything, or indicated anything.’
Bess rose unwillingly. ‘I will do as you advise, Cissy, but I think it is a mistake. Perhaps if I change the gown. . . ?’
‘Richard chose it. He remembers so many things that it is quite possible he will remember that as well. Stay as you are, and outface them all.’
‘I am not as brave as you. Maybe I once was, but no longer.’
‘You are Father’s favourite daughter, Bess. That is all you need, remember.’
John awaited them and was clearly taken aback by the gown. He looked enquiringly at Cissy, who answered, ‘The king chose it.’
He did not say any more as he accompanied the sisters to the foot of the great staircase. There was a considerable stir, but to Cicely’s relief Richard was engaged in conversation with Francis Lovell and Robert Percy. He did not even seem to notice the change in the atmosphere.
The revels faltered, but then continued, with the music, dancing and entertainments. Everyone watched Bess, but discreetly, as John conducted the sisters to where their mother was seated. Elizabeth’s eyes flickered angrily over the gown but she inclined her head civilly enough. What else could she do?
Once Bess had taken her seat, her eyes lowered to the floor, her hands clasped in her lap, John led Cicely out to join the dancing. He spoke every time they twisted past each other. ‘You did not mention the gown.’
‘The king chose it,’ she repeated.
‘The devil he did.’ John glanced towards his father.
‘He did not know.’
‘Oh, I am sure of that.’ He glanced at her. ‘I have heard the whispers about her feelings for him,’ he said quietly.
Richard had perhaps not been as unconscious of events as perhaps seemed, for he glanced around at Bess, saw the gown, and then looked quickly at Anne. Although his face did not change, Cicely knew he had forgotten choosing Bess’s brocade, and how dismayed he now was. He looked at Sir Francis and said something. Francis nodded and moved swiftly towards Bess, bowed, and clearly requested her to dance. Richard then turned to Anne, leaning closer to speak to her. She too looked at Bess, and then put her hand over his sleeve. Cicely saw her fingers tighten, as if in reassurance, and knew he had asked her forgiveness for his part in his niece’s gown.
‘Poor king,’ she whispered, forgetting to dance, as Richard himself had done on that other occasion. She could have wept for him, and John led her swiftly from the floor.
‘It is not your fault, sweeting,’ he said gently, proffering a handkerchief.
‘John, I feel everything so keenly where he is concerned. I cannot bear it when he tries hard to do the right thing, yet finds himself in a pit.’
‘Of his own digging,’ John added, smiling.
‘His intentions were kind.’
‘That is the problem. Time and time again we come back to his unwillingness to be firm and unflinching with those around him. Put him on a battlefield and he is the most formidable fighter and commander in Christendom.’
‘You would have him wield his battleaxe here tonight?’ she asked lightly, but remembered her earlier thoughts. She would wield that battleaxe.
‘Yes, I would,’ John replied. ‘I saw you watching those gathered here. You sense it too. They play the friend, but will betray him. He will be sold, Cicely. Bought and sold.’
She stared at him. ‘Please do not say that.’
He reached for her hand and pulled her near enough to put his arm around her waist. ‘Forgive me, my sweet lady, but I suddenly feel . . . Oh, I do not know.’ He fell silent.
Cicely did not know what to say. The empty shadows at the side of the great hall had suddenly crowded forward, and she was frightened. ‘John?’
He saw the look in her eyes and caught her closer. ‘I should not have said that.’
‘Do . . . you really think it will happen?’
When he returned her look, and could not answer her glance flew to Richard. Please let nothing happen to him. Please.
John changed the subject. ‘Your sister is a sight to behold. Whatever may have been said of her, no one could deny her loveliness.’ He was watching Bess dance with Francis.
Richard watched Bess as well, but still without expression on his face. He toyed with his rings and lowered his glance to them. But then suddenly he looked up, straight at Cicely, and smiled at her across the crowded floor. He might almost have said her name and taken her hand. She returned the smile.
Anne did not look at Bess once, but then she saw Cicely with John, and beckoned them. They pushed their way to the dais, and Richard stood, almost with relief. ‘John! You trod an excellent measure.’
‘Better than you, Father?’
Richard smiled. ‘That you will never do, you pup.’ He turned to Cicely, and kissed her cheek. ‘I have never liked blush-rose more than I do at this moment,’ he said with feeling. Had he added, ‘Anything but cherry,’ his meaning could not have been more obvious.
He looked at her. ‘Please sit with the queen, Cicely, for I wish to talk to John.’
She inclined her head. ‘Of course. It will please me, Uncle.’ As she knelt by Anne, she heard her whisper, ‘Jesu, of all the cloths in that room that day, he had to light upon the other cherry brocade.’
‘He did not know, Your Grace.’
‘Well, he does now, and is distressed, both because he thinks it has upset me, and—of all things—because he thinks he has caused your sister embarrassment!’
Cicely could only take her hand. ‘It is not the king’s fault, Your Grace. Please do not distress yourself.’
‘Cicely, I intend to do what I can to take the sting from all this. When this measure is at an end, will you please bring your sister to me? And then I wish you to stay.’
‘You are sure, Your Grace?’ Cicely was concerned. ‘You are not well, and—’
‘Do as I request, Cicely.’
With great reluctance Cicely did as she was told, and as Bess accompanied her towards the dais again, she whispered, ‘Not one word out of place, Bess, not one word. You are to be a dutiful niece.’
Bess smiled. ‘You will not be able to pick fault, Cissy. I promise.’
As Bess sank into a deep curtsey, Anne was the very soul of gentleness. ‘Bess, I wish you to join Cicely here with me, for what better time than Christmas to be reconciled?’
‘I am honoured, Your Grace, and humbled by your kindness.’
‘Bess, I will have you know that I think you look very lovely, the king has excellent taste.’ Anne tried to sound strong, but could not. Her word
s trailed away into a whisper.
Bess could not speak, but kept her eyes fixed to the folds of Anne’s gown. She was pale, her hands were clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white, and the queen could see how she shook.
‘Have no fear, Bess. I mean you no unkindness for I know in truth that the gown is no fault of yours. It is no fault of anyone’s, merely a stroke of awkward fate.’ Anne paused, taking a shuddering breath and then glancing at Richard, who was deep in conversation with John and Francis. ‘Bess, I know what is in your heart.’
Bess’s breath caught, and her face went pale.
Cicely felt so guilty that she could only stare at the mingled folds of cherry brocade, one stitched with gold, the other with silver. Richard knew everything, and it was her fault that he did.
Anne looked at her. ‘I know you love your uncle as you should not, and I know there is nothing you can do to stop. My poor Richard, he can draw hearts and keep them close ever after, without even having to try.’
Cicely looked away. But he does not have your heart, Anne, when he should have that one most of all.
Anne continued, ‘I feel for you, Bess, because you can never know his love in the way you wish. I will not speak of this again, I only ask—beg—you never let him know. That is all I desire. His protection.’
Cicely felt so culpable she could almost have been sick.
Bess looked at the queen through tears. ‘I will not fail you, Your Grace. I regret with all my heart that I have caused you such distress, and I am ashamed of what is within me. I will not tell him. How can I? I would rather take the crumbs at his feet than never see him again. Oh, there was a time when I wanted to tell him, but that madness has gone. My love has not, though.’ Anne stretched a hand down, and Bess took it, still trying to fight back tears. ‘I do not deserve your understanding, Your Grace.’
‘Yes, you do, Bess, because we are two of a kind. Love is not always kind.’
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