‘Do you ever stop flirting, Jack?’
‘I cannot help it. I was put on earth to pleasure the fair sex.’ He grinned.
‘The dazzling gift God presented to womankind?’
‘Could I be anything less?’
‘No doubt your wife is in full agreement.’
‘I doubt it very much.’
She hid away to read the letter from Richard, and when she broke his seal, the words he wrote were so moving and tender that she was overwhelmed. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she read.
‘My dearest, most beloved lady, I send this because I have to put down in writing the feelings I have for you. You are all around me, every moment of every day, and there is not an hour when I do not think of you as many times as that hour has minutes. Being parted from you is to be likened to purgatory, and I am but half a man because you are not with me. I am a king, yet lack that one jewel that will make me complete. I know that I am in your heart, and for this I cannot measure the honour I feel. Your sweet, forthright nature, your voice, your touch, your constant support, all of these make a slave of me. If our love is crossed by fate, I no longer care. It is an eternal love that will carry me to whatever lies ahead. No spirit could ever be more true than mine is to you. Be safe, my beloved. My heart and soul are forever in your keeping. Richard.’
She could hardly bear it, and raised the letter to her lips. He had touched it, written it, folded it with his own hand, and it made her feel close to him again. She wept unashamedly, because Richard Plantagenet was as eloquent with the written word as he was with the spoken. When he wanted to convey his love, he did it so incomparably that it was as if he held her in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was August, and Cicely sat with Bess on the grassy slope beneath the castle walls. Mary sat nearby, stroking a tabby cat that had begun to follow her around. The maid’s eyes were fixed upon the gatehouse, from whence a wine cart would soon emerge.
Cicely could not help teasing the maid about her new sweetheart. ‘Has Will disappeared, Mistress Kymbe?’
Mary blushed. ‘Please, my lady.’
Bess looked around from the daisy chain she was making. ‘Who is this Will? Is there some secret to which I am not party?’
Cicely smiled. ‘Mary has a lover.’
‘Oh, my lady, he is not my lover!’ Mary exclaimed indignantly.
‘Then it is surely not for want of him trying.’
Bess was interested now. ‘Come, tell me all about him.’
Mary blushed even more. ‘He is the son of the innkeeper at the White Boar.’
Bess was surprised. ‘The one who brings the wine? Mary, he is built like York minster itself, has bright red hair and legs like tree trunks.’
Mary hid her flushed face.
Cicely smiled again. ‘He entered the castle an hour ago and is still there. Mary threatens to fall down the bank in her eagerness to see him again.’
‘Oh, my lady, it is not fair of you to mock me so.’
But at that moment they heard the deep rumble that announced the wine cart’s passage beneath the gatehouse. The old grey horse moved more easily with only empty barrels to haul, and the muscular young man with the reins was whistling jauntily. His gaze moved to Mary, who met it without pretending to play the silly girl.
Cicely looked at her. ‘Mary, Bess and I will not mind if you wish to speak to him.’
Eyes bright, the maid pushed the annoyed cat aside and scrambled to her feet to run lightly across the grass towards the slowly moving cart. A pleased smile spread across Will’s cheerful face as he saw her, and he drew the horse to a halt.
Bess gazed at them wistfully. ‘Oh, how envious I am, Cicely.’
‘Surely you do not have a fancy for Will?’ Cicely kept a straight face, for the thought of cool, elegant Bess with such a fellow was almost too comical.
‘I will ignore that,’ Bess murmured, finishing the daisy chain by making it into a little crown which she placed on her head. ‘There, now I am at last a queen.’
A single horse galloped along the road from York, and Cicely shaded her eyes, a finger of alarm travelling up her spine as he moved towards them along the hollowed village street, casting a cloud of dust in his wake.
Bess stood. ‘He wears Richard’s colours. Oh, please, do not let it be bad news.’ She pressed her hands to her mouth.
Cicely got up as well, her heart beginning to pound with trepidation.
The horseman passed the wine cart without checking, and rode full pelt into the castle court. Then the sisters heard Jack being called.
Bess’s hand crept to take Cicely’s. ‘I will not believe it is bad news, I will not believe it.’
They stood there, undecided whether to go inside as well, but then they heard more hooves, and the rider emerged on a fresh horse, this time swinging away from the road, around the south-east tower and into the waiting arms of the forest.
Cicely’s hand tightened around Bess’s. ‘Why does he go in that direction?’
‘We are about to find out, for Jack and John are coming to us.’
Jack waved a letter as he approached, and the sisters saw the king’s seal. ‘Well, ladies,’ Jack said, ‘the moment of truth is almost upon us for Henry Tudor has landed.’
A pang of such force passed through Cicely that she thought she would be sick. It was upon them all at last, and Richard would soon face this latest challenge to his crown.
Jack read from the letter. ‘Tudor reached Shrewsbury two days ago, the seventeenth, having passed unhindered through Wales. Unhindered and in part aided! ‘
‘There are more potential enemies among English lords than the Welsh,’ John replied.’
‘Richard is mustering his men but still instructs us to remain here.’ Jack all but crumpled the letter. ‘If you and I were at his side, we would strengthen his arm and his resolve. Is that not so, John?’
‘Yes,’ was the simple answer.
‘However, we must continue to play at nursemaids, for which fact I am so filled with resentment that, with your exception, John, I could happily strangle everyone.’
Bess was icy. ‘If we do not strangle you first, Cousin, for you are as rude and disagreeable as it is possible to be.’
He grinned. ‘Ah, you are coming around to me at last, Bess. Soon you will be begging to be admitted to my bed.’
She looked away.
‘Oh, cruel heart,’ he declared, grinning. Then he looked at John and Cicely again. ‘There is some good news come out of this, for Richard has at last moved to secure the Stanleys’ allegiance in some manner. Lord Stanley, it seems, requested leave to depart for his estates, which means he was slipping away from the king’s side. Richard granted him permission, but only provided Stanley’s son and heir, Lord Strange, remained in royal custody! A hostage, by God! That will serve to make Stanley think twice before unfurling his banners for his wife’s puking son. Jesu, what I would not give for a chance to strike at the Tudor weasel.’ He kicked at a clump of harebells, destroying them beyond recovery, and then he turned to Bess again. ‘My lady, the king speaks also of you and your sister. He is most emphatic that you shall be prepared to leave the country with the utmost haste if need be. He does not wish you to fall victim to Henry Tudor.’
‘Victim? I thought I was marked to be his consort.’ Bess was bitter.
‘Levity sits ill upon your lips, especially when it is at the king’s expense. Or are you no longer in love with him?’
Bess flushed. ‘You go too far, my lord of Lincoln.’
John was angered. ‘For Jesu’s sake, Jack, you do not only speak of Bess’s uncle, you speak of my father!’
Cicely lowered her eyes to the daisy-strewn grass. And you speak of my love. He is mine. Only mine.
Jack repented. ‘I crave your pardon, John, but Bess, you must be sensible on this. Because for you to be forced into Henry Tudor’s bed is, in Richard’s eyes, to make you a victim! Or you, Cicely.’ He met her gaze, and she he
ard his silent addendum. ‘Especially you.’
Bess sighed. ‘I cannot have the man I really love and so I wish I had agreed to the marriage with Desmond, for I would have been away in Ireland, out of reach.’
Cicely kept her eyes fixed upon the daisies around her feet. She had the man her sister loved, and now there were consequences. Her monthly bleeding was late. She was never late. Never. And she felt different. So different. She had become an observer, trapped in a hazy world that existed alongside this one. It was a wonderful secret, known only to her and to Mary, and she did not fear the day when she had to reveal her condition. She would never say whose child it was, though. Jack would know. Jack seemed to be aware of everything, but she would not tell anyone before Richard himself. May God care for him and bring him victory.
Bess’s fresh statement about the king made Jack’s handsome face grow cold. ‘The fact is that you are not married to Desmond, nor are you destined to warm your uncle’s nights. So, for you the alternative falls between flight or Henry Tudor’s ardent embrace! Richard has commanded that you flee, and I trust you intend to obey him. He remains the king, no matter how you may lust after his body.’ His glance flew to Cicely, and then away again.
Bess flushed. ‘Cicely and I will do whatever the king wishes.’
A silence fell upon them and Cicely remembered the messenger. ‘Jack, where does the king’s rider go now?’
‘He has Richard’s commands for the Earl of Northumberland who lies at present at his manor of Wressle. There not having been any sign of him as yet, the king has to jostle him to raise his forces immediately and ride south to join the royal army, together with the men of York who would fight for their duke. Richard should not have to make such a request. Damn Northumberland. I think he bears a grudge because he still resents my having been appointed to the Council of the North. Harry Percy considers himself to be the commander hereabouts. I believe he is one of those who will hold back when Richard needs him most.’
Cicely was concerned. ‘But Sir Robert Percy could not be stronger for Richard.’
‘Robert is but distantly related to the earl, and has known Richard since childhood. Northumberland, however, is for Northumberland, and is a spineless knight, not worthy of carrying Hotspur’s name, but Richard has need of his forces. More is the pity, because men of Percy’s calibre are worthless. Bah, he is no fitting topic of conversation, I am more concerned with Henry Tudor. The battle will be bloody when Richard meets with him. You must pray your Lancastrian suitor is defeated, Bess.’
With a start, Bess remembered the foolish crown of daisies she still wore, and hastily removed it.
A vigilant lookout called down to Jack. ‘My lord, many riders pass close to the castle from the south-east.’
Lincoln looked up quickly. ‘Do you make out their colours?’
‘Aye, my lord, they bear the crescent moon of Northumberland.’
With an oath, Lincoln turned towards John. ‘What makes Percy ride north at a time such as this? His way lies south! What manner of cousin and supporter is he? I detect a stench! Come, John, we will ride out to intercept him. Keep your eyes and ears alert for anything, no matter how small, that may indicate his ultimate intentions. A few prudent questions should prove illuminating.’
Leaving Cicely and Bess, the two young men hurried back into the castle, emerging only minutes later with two standard bearers and a small detachment of mounted men-at-arms. John would later describe to Cicely exactly what happened.
Jack had grinned at him as they rode towards Northumberland and his leisurely retinue. ‘It will be worth this effort just to see Percy’s face when he realizes who we are. He would not come this close to Sheriff Hutton if he was aware of our presence. Nor would be he trotting along at such a lazy pace.’
Harness jingling, the small cavalcade cantered out to where the earl had halted on seeing them. As they drew near, they saw the expression of uneasy suspicion on his fat face. He was thirty-six, but looked older, and there was a set to his mouth that told of a cruel nature.
At last the party from the castle halted as well, and Jack and John manoeuvred alongside the earl’s horse.
‘Greetings, my lord,’ Jack said, inclining his head.
‘Cousin Lincoln, I greet you. I had no idea you were here. My lord John.’ Percy’s jowls bulged over his collar as he inclined his head.
Lincoln looked levelly at the shifting eyes that would not fully meet his own. ‘My lord of Northumberland, I saw you passing and came to pay my . . . respects. It surprises me to see you riding north at this time. Did you not encounter the king’s messenger barely minutes ago?’
‘Ah yes, indeed, but I must first prepare. At the moment I have only half my promised strength. There is plague in York and I will need another route for fear of the contagion. I go now to my manor at Topcliffe with urgent matters to discharge.’ Percy did not entirely conceal his dislike for Jack.
Jack shared the hostility. He knew there was plague in York, but also that if Percy really wished to travel south to Richard, he could. He grinned without humour. ‘I will write to the king of your eagerness to attend him with your forces, but now, if your, er, business is of such great import, my lord, I will delay you no longer, and bid you farewell.’ With a salute of his hand he turned his mount, and he and John retraced their steps to the castle, their standard bearers and riders following.
On the grassy slope, Cicely and Bess saw the earl shade his eyes to scan the castle battlements. He could see nothing unusual, no great force, no encampments, nothing. But he also glanced around at the forest, and signalled two riders to comb the glades. If there was a force true to Richard in the vicinity of Sheriff Hutton, he would find it.
Bess turned and walked back into the castle just as Jack and John returned from their confrontation with Northumberland. Jack reined in and turned in the saddle to watch the earl’s company move on. ‘How many like him are there, John? How many who hate York, wish to restore Woodvilles or Lancastrians, or look to Henry Tudor because they hate it that Richard is proving to be a loved and just king. They all come together now, all against the one man whose claim to the throne by far outranks any other. The question must be, are there enough of them to succeed?’
John swallowed. ‘I pray not, Jack.’
‘I will act upon Richard’s wishes, and get everyone across the sea, now, without further delay. But when I have done this, I mean to join the king. Will you be at my side?’
‘But, my father’s wishes—’
‘I know what Richard wishes, John, but I feel I must be with him. I can impose upon the three boys to leave now, although whether the two ladies will obey, I really do not know.’
‘Bess said she will go, but I doubt she will leave England while my father is . . .’
‘Alive?’
John nodded. ‘Nor will I, for I do not think my father intended us to go unless the battle went against him. Jack, you are his heir and must be safe at all costs, so I think you are right to go now, and take the boys with you. But whether you are right to then go to my father instead of accompanying them to Burgundy is another matter. I am not in line to the throne, merely Richard’s by-blow. If Cicely or Bess will not leave, I will stay here too.’
‘Damn it all, John, it is Richard’s express order that Bess and Cicely do not fall prey to the Tudor. They must leave as well.’ Jack ran his hand agitatedly through his hair. ‘Jesu, we speak as if Richard is already defeated, and yet . . .’
‘Yet?’
‘I have a feeling of foreboding. There will be too many Percys, John.’
Best course or not, when it came to the final moment, Bess would not leave, and because Cicely felt she must stay with her sister, John remained as well. Jack would have to set off in charge of only the three boys. His mounted men were waiting to depart as he came to his remaining cousins to say farewell.
He looked at Bess. ‘Why do you fail Richard? Mm? Simply to be in the same land as him?’
�
��To breathe the same air? Yes, Jack, I do.’
‘Then I trust you mean to take poison if things do not go as we pray?’
She did not answer the comment. ‘Take care, Jack, God be with you.’
He turned to John. ‘I need your promise, John. If you receive any word at all that the day has gone against us—against him—you must get you and the ladies gone from here immediately. Immediately, do you hear? I should be forcing you now, but will not force Bess, who is well old enough now to know the gravity of what she does.’
The words could not have been more indicative of Jack’s bitterness, which extended to Cicely and John for permitting Bess to have her selfish way. He looked at Cicely in particular. ‘You cannot fall into Tudor’s hands, sweetheart.’ He took her hand and kissed it soundly, before leaning close to whisper, ‘I believe you have another secret, my lady.’
Her lips parted and she gasped. ‘I do not understand, my lord.’
‘I think you do. Be safe and well, Cicely Plantagenet. I pray that when it comes to names, you remember mine. But Jacqueline will do as well, I suppose.’ He smiled and spoke very softly. ‘Your eyes give you away, sweetheart. I can see your child in them.’
She caught his hand. ‘You be safe too, Jack. I will miss you.’
‘But not enough, dear lady, not enough.’
He kissed her on the lips, and then hurried away, out into the courtyard where the cavalcade awaited. Moments later Richard’s heir and three young nephews rode out of Sheriff Hutton and turned east for the coast. And the safety of Burgundy.
Cicely gazed after them. She knew how Richard would feel if he were to learn what had happened, and what he would say. She, more than anyone, knew his feelings.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It was the twenty-sixth day of August 1485, and there had been no further word from Richard. Everything seemed so peaceful, as if nothing could possibly be happening—have happened—that would decide the fate of the throne.
Jack had sent word from the coast that their ship would sail on the next tide, and that was all those at Sheriff Hutton had heard. Whether he had accompanied the boys on the voyage, or merely sent them safely on their way, was not revealed. It could be that he was now with Richard, a fact that John found increasingly hard to bear. He should be with his father as well, no matter what Richard’s instructions had entailed.
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