She stiffened. It was plain what they were doing; she’d seen it too often. The priests formed the corners of a square. She couldn’t see the objects they held but knew what they were: a cross, a Bible, holy water and a bell. They were chanting, praying. Their faces were turned angrily to the sky and their voices drifted up in fragments, hard and fervent.
They were trying to exorcise the wind spirit. To bind it, send it back to the netherworld from which it came. Already the elemental was retreating from their angry energy. It would go elsewhere and they would think they’d triumphed.
“Don’t they ever give up?” Raphael said benignly.
Kate held back her pointless rage. She breathed fresh air and let it go in a long sigh.
“They’re fools, Raph. They try to destroy the powers of the Earth with crosses and incantations. They might as well try to pin down the wind! They’re so afraid, yet they don’t even know what they’re afraid of.”
He was frowning at her.
She said, “Have they been whispering the fear of devils, sorcery and witches into your ear? Do you see me differently now?”
“No, no.”
“I’m still the same.”
“I know. It’s not that. Kate… When I was in London… the night King Henry died…”
She waited. The breeze blew steadily between them. “What?”
“Nothing.” He turned away. “We should go down now. You must be hungry and tired. I’ll find someone to take you to the duchess.”
As they emerged from the staircase into the great hall, a child came running towards them. He nearly ran into Kate’s skirts, stopped in his tracks and gawped at her. He was tiny, with a dense silky mass of raven hair, dark grey eyes and a serious expression on a sweetly beautiful face.
He was the image of Richard. The image.
Kate stared back, echoing his childlike bewilderment. The chamber whirled and she was in another place; not understanding how this could be. As a nurse came hurrying to recapture him, Kate went on staring. By the time she came to her senses the child was gone, carried away by the gently scolding nurse. She thought, Richard has a son. He’s married and he has an heir…
Although she’d known, it hadn’t seemed real until she came here. Something intense and painful moved through her, without shape, like the glassy elemental of the sky.
“Katherine?” came Raphael’s concerned voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You look as if you might faint. That was a little boy, not a ghost.” He spoke lightly, but sounded worried. She composed herself.
“He gave me a start, that’s all. Richard’s boy?”
“Edward. Lovely-looking child, isn’t he?”
“Beautiful,” said Katherine.
“Such a good-mannered little scrap, too, a credit to his parents… Are you sure you’re well?”
“Perfectly.” She smiled, despite the stinging in her eyes. “I’ve had a long journey, that’s all. Is it ladylike to admit I’m starving?”
###
“You attended my sister when she died.”
“Yes, your Grace.”
Anne’s face was long and square-chinned, like her father’s; her skin clear and bloodless but for the amber stain of her lips. Her hair, pale russet, floated down past her hips. She had an astonishing quality of serenity that made her seem otherworldly. Isabel had been an inferno of affection and mischief: Anne was her opposite, aloof and quiet, like a saint.
“She was exceedingly fond of you.”
“And I of her.” Kate bit her lip. A tear escaped down her cheek. Anne must have noticed, but said nothing. She’d shown little emotion when marrying Edouard of Lancaster, and less after his death. Only this self-contained calm.
“You must have given her great comfort.”
“I tried. I wish I could have given her healing, but…”
“It’s all right, Kate. Everything that happens is God’s will; accept this and the torment stops. That’s how I got through my time with Marguerite and Prince Edouard, though I confess I thanked our Creator when it ended.”
Kate rubbed the tear away. She wondered if the torment included being married to Richard of Gloucester. She couldn’t imagine him as a loving husband; only cool, business-like and distant. Perhaps that was what Anne preferred.
“I was afraid for you,” said the duchess, “left with my brother-in-law of Clarence.”
“I was afraid for myself, sometimes, my lady.”
“George was always given to excess.” Anne’s mouth flattened slightly. “You’re safe with us, Kate. There’s always a home for you here.”
“Thank you,” she answered, so grateful for Anne’s cool kindness that she almost wept again. She burned with shame that she could think anything ungenerous about Richard.
Yet part of her stood aloof, thinking, I am not some peasant girl to be grateful for charity, I am a sister of Auset, I come and go as I please… knowing that, in truth, her freedom was illusory. She was safe in only two places: here, or with her mother.
Anne’s chamber was elegant. The walls were hung with ivory silk and religious icons in the Byzantine style. On the floor was a beautiful eastern rug, cream and gold and blue. All the furnishings were covered in thick oyster-coloured silk. Anne indicated a settle near her own chair.
“Please sit down. It’s such a pleasure to see you again, Katherine. Will you call me Anne? You always called Bel by her first name, and you’re older than me, and wiser, I’m sure. I’ll never forget your help when we were stranded outside Calais.”
“My lady – Anne – I can’t work miracles, I couldn’t save her baby. In the end I couldn’t save her.”
Anne didn’t respond. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear this. After a pause she said, “You know how I came to marry Richard? I saw little of you while it was going on.”
Again Kate felt a dull pang. “I confess, I kept out of the way. George used every person he could lay hands on as a weapon in his struggle and I didn’t want to be dragged in. I know he was foaming at the mouth when he lost.”
Anne smiled at that. “I think Bel and George loved each other in their way, which is just as well, since she had no choice. My father wanted a daughter upon the throne of England: Bel with George or me with Lancaster, he didn’t care. George saw his chance to seize all the Warwick estates, which were my mother’s and wrongfully confiscated from her. As long as he kept me close, I was in no position to claim my birthright. I didn’t want much, Kate; only this castle – my home – but even that was too much for George.
“Only Richard had the power and position to help me. When George found out we meant to marry he did everything to prevent it; he argued in court and in parliament, raged at the king. He even hid me in the house of his friend where I was kept prisoner, forced to pretend I was a servant. So ludicrous, I can’t believe it happened.”
“We didn’t know where you were,” said Kate, uneasily. “George made all manner of excuses to Isabel, and told me nothing at all, of course.”
“My brother-in-law is cunning, but not the brightest of men. Richard was bound to prevail. He married me, and made sure I received my birthright.”
She spoke glowingly, but Kate was sceptical.
“And by marrying you, Richard gained your half share of the Warwick estates,” Kate said evenly, “which I thought belonged to your good mother the countess.”
“Lamb’s blood, Kate, be realistic. Edward himself wouldn’t let my mother keep her inheritance, not after my father’s treachery. She was declared legally dead. At least this way we’ve saved half. Richard did so out of affection for me. And the reward he’s received for himself – well, he deserves it. What’s mine is his. Creator knows, I can’t take my lands to the afterlife with me and I know he cherishes them. Ask anyone, from the highest to the lowest; he’s a better ruler in the north than Edward in the south.”
“So everyone’s said, from the moment I arrived.”
“You know my mother
fled into sanctuary when my father was killed at Barnet? Richard freed her, and brought her to live with us.”
“Your mother’s here?” Kate was shocked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Anne Beauchamp, who’d tried to live in two worlds at once and had thus betrayed both. Betrayed her own daughters, in Kate’s eyes.
“Yes, though she lives very quietly, and keeps to her own chambers.”
“Does she not… go out?”
“Where would she wish to go? She claims she’s too old for pilgrimages.”
“Anne!” Kate said, exasperated. With effort, she suppressed her impertinent tone. “My lady, she might go to York, to visit her – her sisterhood. She might be needed as a midwife, healer, or priestess. All the tasks that the daughters of Auset are duty-bound to do. Services that may also require me to beg leave of you. If my Motherlodge sends for me, I must go.”
A subtle change came over Anne’s face. Disapproval.
Kate added, “I don’t believe that you and Isabel were unaware of your mother’s allegiance.”
Anne drew and released a breath. She picked at a loose thread on her dress. Finally she said, “We knew, naturally, but it’s in the past.”
“How?”
“Whatever dealings my mother had with any institution other than the holy Church is finished. She renounced her… old ways.”
“Is that what she told you?”
“It’s true; do you doubt my word?”
“No, no. If you say it’s so, then it is.” Kate thought she was speaking reasonably, but caught herself glaring into Anne’s eyes in challenge.
Anne shifted a little, uneasy.
“Katherine, I can’t let you out of the castle in the service of… I won’t give it a stronger name than ‘heresy’, though I could. You must put all that behind you. Here we live a devoted spiritual life. You’ll find all the succour you need in the chapel.”
The duchess spoke gently, but there was iron in her gaze.
“Are you forbidding me to go?”
“I’d rather you saw the wisdom of it for yourself. You’ll be happier, and…”
“Not go to hell?” said Kate, raising her eyebrows.
Anne opened her palms. “Well, yes, Kate, truly. I know you’re a good person. I want you to follow the right path, not for us to argue.”
“Did Ri – did his Grace your husband ask you to say this?”
“No. However, we are in agreement about it.”
Katherine exhaled through her teeth. Richard and Anne stood like a wall of piety keeping her from Auset. Resist, and the priest would be called, and even the duke himself – the last person with whom she wanted to argue. So her choice was to flee back to Eleanor, or remain here, compromised.
“May I visit my mother in Derbyshire?”
“Of course. You may go out for any reason, except for those I’ve mentioned. That’s all. Middleham is not a prison.”
“Very well. I only want to serve you, and show due love and respect to my mother.”
Anne’s frown smoothed in relief. “Thank you, Kate.”
So it’s all swept under the Byzantine rug, and peace can reign, Kate thought. I should be glad they don’t want to hang me, like poor Ankarette. But I’ll stay, because Anne is my last link to Isabel, as I am hers. And because Raphael is here, and returning to my mother would mean admitting defeat.
“You’ll be comfortable here,” Anne went on. “I’m an easy mistress. All I require of you is company, perhaps to read to each other, as we used to? The smallest of tasks. Sometimes to supervise my household if I am ill. I have others to help with my dress and toilet, and nurses aplenty for Edward. Still, you might care to play with my son, if it pleases you. He’s a sweet boy, and a quick learner.” She looked wistful. “I must make the best of him, before he’s gone.”
“Gone?” Nebulous fear rolled down Kate’s spine.
“In wardship, to another castle. I wish I had a daughter, then I might keep her… at least until she’s married to some foreign prince.” Anne’s face became drawn, pale and sightless, like a plaster saint. Then she came back from the lost place, and smiled. “Your chamber, Kate, is it to your liking?”
###
The chamber was very much to her liking. It was in the round tower on the southwest corner of the castle, close to the duchess’s apartments and reached by spiral stairs. Kate shared it with Nan, Ursula and another of Anne’s ladies, Mary Bagott, a sanguine-natured but dull and pious woman, nearly as wide as she was tall.
The chamber was round and roomy, with a view over the gorgeous dale. The walls were painted soft green and hung with long narrow tapestries, each portraying a holy martyr picked out in beads and gold thread. The bed was luxurious, with a big soft mattress, feather pillows and lush hangings of green and russet. Kate and Mary shared the bed, with Nan and Ursula on pallets at its foot. The two girls – Kate still thought of Nan as a girl, with her simple, child-like nature – had formed a firm alliance that included a mutual dislike of Dame Bagott.
Kate slept as if dead the first night. The next night, however, she was restless; uncomfortably aware of Mary’s hot, snoring bulk a few inches away. She heard Nan and Ursula whispering. Although she was pleased they’d made friends, the sound was annoying. Ursula was a good girl but sharp and cunning, and Nan was too easily led. Kate sighed at the thought of having to protect them from Mary Bagott’s wrath, if they happened to displease her.
She’d seen the Duke of Gloucester twice since she’d arrived, and only at a distance. He sat at the top table in the great hall at dinner, while she was further down with Anne’s ladies. He looked magnificent: immaculate in rich dark robes of black and blood-red, his hair like polished jet under a soft velvet cap. He had none of Edward’s noisy flamboyance, just restrained, graceful confidence. A duke in full command of his domain.
Kate felt very strange to see him. Almost jealous to find him so wealthy and powerful, she felt antipathy towards Richard, as if the scared boy he’d once been had never existed. How unspeakably difficult it was to see Anne at his side. A royal couple, husband and wife. Kate glanced repeatedly at him, yet he never gave any sign he’d seen her.
She grew annoyed with herself. She didn’t love him and couldn’t like him. All she felt was the deference and respect she owed her lord.
There had been lust, once, but that was so long ago, when they were young and impulsive. What was this stabbing pain, then? Wounded pride? A fancy that, had their situation been different, he might have fallen desperately in love with her and never looked at another? Ridiculous. He would still have had to marry an heiress. That was the way of nobles.
Kate turned over in bed. The girls had stopped whispering: she heard the slow breathing of sleep. The room was too close. She needed fresh air to clear her head.
She kept her secrets, like a hidden jewel: a white boar of pearl. She half-smiled as she placed her feet on the cold floor. Once, long ago, she had seduced Richard, and Anne didn’t know. Nor did Raphael. Would he mind? Instinct told her that he wouldn’t think any the worse of her. Brought up by Edith, he was kind and tolerant, not judgmental. She doubted that Raphael expected women to be more virtuous than men.
Still. There was no reason for anyone ever to know. Such knowledge would only hurt them and humiliate her. To be seen in the same light as King Edward’s cast-off conquests – great Goddess, the idea was disgusting. No, a secret it would remain. She had more to do than be merely a wench, a womb, a commodity.
More than ever, she wished that Auset had sent her a passing shepherd, someone she need never have seen again. That would have made it easy for the whole episode to be thrown down the black-throated garderobe of the past.
###
Alone on the roof of the round tower, she leaned shivering on the battlements with the night blue-black around her. The stars looked like a snowstorm. She was thinking of the child, couldn’t push him out of her mind.
Someone moved behind her. She heard a soft footfall, a man clearing hi
s throat so as not to startle her, and thought he was a guard. Then he moved beside her and she saw that the man was Richard. He folded his pale hands on the battlements; the rest of him was dark. His black hair, uncovered, was full and dishevelled on the shoulders of his mantle.
Her mouth went dry. Automatically she dipped her knee and croaked, “Your Grace.”
He didn’t acknowledge her obeisance, but looked up at the stars. After a few moments he spoke.
“I’ve been wondering all day how I might speak to you alone.”
“Here I am.” Uneasy and self-conscious, she pulled her cloak tight around her throat. Her hair blew loose. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Nor could I. I sleep abominably sometimes and haunt the battlements at all hours of the night. The guards are used to me.”
“They may have to get used to me as well,” she said, then felt her face turn to flame. He’d become an unapproachable icon in her mind. She couldn’t believe he was talking to her, almost as if they were childhood friends.
“Well, I surely hope you’ll feel at ease here. I know Anne wishes it.”
So he pushed his wife’s name straight into the conversation. After the dull pang came relief; everything was clear. She would be business-like. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she had lingering feelings for him.
“You’re very good to let her summon me,” she said. “You can’t have wanted me here.”
She looked at him and smiled. His face stayed in profile. The one eye she could see was an arc of frost.
“I wouldn’t say that. Anne needs someone strong. We agreed everything else was forgotten, didn’t we, my lady?”
Kate gave a minimal nod. “She doesn’t know, does she?”
Richard looked down at his folded hands. “Katherine, you were not my only indiscretion. Anne knows I’ve not been perfect. I have two bastard children – born before we were married – and she’s as kind as a mother to them when they visit me. But she doesn’t want the names or faces of my past lapses paraded before her. So of course I haven’t told her, and I trust you won’t.”
The Court of the Midnight King: A Dream of Richard III Page 22
