Catherine rose. “If you will forgive me, my lord, the long journey has tired me. I will retire.”
Her eyes flashed once more to Owen, and he gave a hardly perceptible nod as Catherine crossed the large hall. The Bishop didn’t even notice Owen leave. He was standing before one of his magnificent stained glass windows recently bought at great expense from an Italian craftsman. He saw nothing of its beauty. His thoughts were more concerned with power.
Owen walked along the corridor, bowing as he passed a young woman who for some reason held her hand up to her face. He shrugged, smiling; he was the last one to pry into the affairs of others.
* * *
“But I saw him, my lord, with my own eyes. Owen Tudor went brazenly into the Queen’s bedchamber!”
Lady Mary Beaufort was almost ill with excitement; her face was pale with tiny beads of moisture on the bridge of her nose, and the Bishop turned away in distaste. He had been foolish to have the girl here at such a time. He’d forgotten that she was one of the Queen’s ladies.
“Keep your own counsel about this, child,” he said sternly. “The Queen’s affairs are her own.”
“But Uncle Henry, the Queen was in her night attire. They must be very intimate to see each other like that.”
“You are ill advised to say such things, madam! You know nothing of the facts of the case, nothing at all.”
Mary’s lip quivered. She knew her uncle well. He seldom stepped out of his role as benign kinsman; it was one he enjoyed playing. She allowed a tear to tremble on her cheek.
“I’m sorry, uncle, I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that I was so shocked. I always thought of the Queen as virtuous.”
Henry patted her hand. “You were right to come and tell me. It could prove embarrassing if this got out; but it shall be our little secret.” He delved deeply into a cupboard and drew out a sparkling necklace. “Here, this will help dry your tears, child.”
“Thank you so much, Uncle Henry. It’s beautiful.”
She held the gems up to the light, and they sparkled like fire. It was worth a great deal of money, and she fully understood that it was a bribe to keep her mouth shut. But about what exactly?
He waved his hand, excusing her, and she hurried from the room jubilantly clutching the necklace. If her uncle, the Bishop, was prepared to pay her to keep quiet, there were others who would no doubt pay for information. All she must do now, was consider the best way of finding out exactly what that information was.
* * *
“Ah, a man after my own heart. You really care about the animals, I see.”
Tom Cooper looked up in surprise from his task of grooming the horses that were to carry the royal party back to Windsor. The lady standing smiling down at him was no beauty, but she smiled pleasantly enough, and she was right; he did care about the animals.
“Did you want a horse, my lady? Shall I bring one out for you?” he asked politely, though it was no part of his duties to care for the demands of the Bishop’s household.
“That’s very kind of you. I’m a bit nervous, so choose a docile creature.”
She did, indeed, seem nervous. Tom helped her into the saddle after several unsuccessful attempts and he had taken advantage of the situation to hold her a little more tightly than strictly necessary.
“I must be very stupid,” she said, breathlessly, “but I was ill as a child, and not allowed to ride very much.”
She seemed reluctant to move away from the stables, and Tom felt it would be oafish to walk away and resume his work.
“Is there any way I can assist you my lady?”
“Oh, if only you would be so kind as to ride a short way with me?”
She looked at him helplessly, and he was afraid she would become unseated any moment and end up in the mud of the stable yard.
“But, my lady, I don’t really think I should. Haven’t you a kinsman to ride with you? That would be a more fitting arrangement.”
“I have only my Uncle Henry, and he’s too old to get up on a horse these days.” She smiled to herself. She could almost believe herself that the Bishop was a harmless old man. “Oh, come on. It’s very early. I just want to try a short ride. We’ll be back before anyone misses you.”
Tom looked across the fields. The early morning mist was swirling like ghosts in the trees, and the air was spicy and fresh.
“I’ll come, my lady, but I really must be quick.”
Marie had searched anxiously for Tom for what seemed an age. The Queen wished to ride in the pale sun of the early afternoon, and in the end Marie had been forced to bribe one of the Bishop’s stableboys to bring horses round to the big door.
Luckily, no one had noticed his absence, but now that Marie was left alone to her thoughts, she racked her brains for a reason for Tom’s apparent disappearance.
“You wait Thomas Cooper!” she said fiercely. “If I find you with one of the kitchen maids, I’ll have no more to do with you!”
Her voice rang out in the empty room, and feeling foolish, and angry with herself as well as Tom, she went to the window and stared out.
For a moment, she thought the Queen and Owen were returning from their ride already. Then she realised that the man on the horse was not a gentleman in fine clothes, but Tom. The lady at his side wore a rich pink gown, and though Marie could not see her face there was something puzzlingly familiar about her.
“Oh, mother of God preserve us,” she gasped. “It’s that bitch of a Beaufort girl. If Tom has talked, Humphrey of Gloucester will know about the marriage so fast that my lady will be powerless to prevent it.”
* * *
Tom stood shame-faced before Catherine. “I didn’t know who she was, my lady. She seemed so innocent.”
Catherine paced about the room, trying desperately to think of something to do. She waved her hand at Tom.
“Don’t reproach yourself. You men are notoriously simple when it comes to a pretty face.” She stopped still for a moment, and patted Tom’s arm. “Aye, and I suppose she put on a pretty good act.” The colour stained the man’s cheeks, and Catherine felt sorry for him.
“You may leave us; don’t worry too much. It was bound to be discovered sooner or later.” She turned into Owen’s arms as Tom closed the door. “I’d have preferred it to be later on, so that we may have had a few months of peace.”
Owen kissed her tenderly. “Soon you will be full with my son; and then the world will know.”
Catherine laughed and pushed him away. “We are only just married, my lord. Even you must give nature a chance.” Owen caught her up in his arms, and carried her to the bed. “I think I will give nature a chance now.”
Catherine struggled for a moment. “Owen, we have serious problems to consider. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester – he will be so angry about the marriage.”
Owen held on to her and slipped his hand into her bodice.
“There is nothing he can do. You are the Queen of England.” He kissed her, passionately. “And I am your husband, and I love you, Catherine.”
With a sigh of pleasure, she relaxed in his arms, stretching her small body in an ecstasy of abandon.
“Owen, you must tell me some time how you have become so adept at giving joy.”
She wound slim arms around him, and pulled his lips down to hers.
* * *
Marie plodded angrily across the coarse grassland bordering the Bishop’s estates.
“Tom, you big fool. I’ll warrant that no man would have got the information from you with red hot pincers; but just let a woman smile at you and hand out some favours, too, no doubt, and you open your mouth as wide as a baby chick seeking a worm!”
Tom stopped walking, and leaned against a tree.
“You can’t make me feel worse than I do already. I’ve made a proper mess of things, haven’t I?”
He looked so much like a dejected child that Marie’s heart softened in spite of her anger. She went to him and reached up to ruffle his crinkly brown hai
r.
“Ah, well, don’t feel too badly about it. I suppose it would have come out sooner or later. It’s not the kind of thing that can be kept secret for long.” She kissed his cheek. “Come on, don’t sulk. What’s done, is done! and there’s an end to it.”
Tom’s arm immediately closed around her, his hand fumbling for her bodice. She gently slapped him, but her eyes were soft.
“There is no time for any of that. We are to make for Windsor soon. I’ve already packed away the best of the Queen’s jewels. I suppose we will make an early start in the morning.” She began to retrace her steps. “She misses her son, poor little mite. To be a king at such a tender age must be a trial. If only he had been grown up, things would have been so different.”
Tom took her arm, and matched his steps to hers.
“Yes, different indeed. The Queen would be too old to think of marriage, and come to that, so would we.” He looked down at her. “I think I could do worse than take you for my wife.”
Marie threw back her head and laughed. “It may be an odd proposal of marriage, but I’m going to accept it before you change your mind.”
Later, as they walked back through the grounds of the mansion-house, Marie caught sight of Lady Mary. She was dressed for travelling, and was accompanied by several of her uncle’s servants. She saw Marie, and recognised her at once, but looked disdainfully away.
For a full five minutes, Marie stood in the middle of the path and cursed in rapid French until the lady went pale and wheeled her mount sharply away, frightened and superstitious because she had not understood the words, only the hatred on Marie’s face.
“That will send her on her way with something to think about as she runs to Gloucester with her tale!” Marie said, as she took Tom’s arm, and calmly continued on the journey just as if nothing had happened.
* * *
The Queen was more beautiful than ever, and though he had spent his entire life practising his own ideas of celibacy, the Bishop could not help admire her radiance and charm. Her husband, like the wild barbaric fool he was, cavorted around her, enticing her to dance. She laughed and tried to wave him aside, but he scooped her up in his arms as if she was a doll, and called out a tune in his strong, clear voice.
He moved further into the hall, and though the Welshman’s eyes continued to sparkle, he set the Queen on her feet, and she made an effort to control her laughter, as she welcomed the Bishop.
“We will leave for home in the morning, my lord,” she said a trifle breathlessly, “but we thank you most earnestly for all your hospitality.”
She sank down and fanned her rosy cheeks.
“Tell me, my lord, is the lady Mary Beaufort still here?”
Henry raised his brows and pursed his lips.
“She left suddenly this morning, Your Majesty. She gave no reason, but she has been told nothing of consequence – not by me, I assure you.”
Catherine inclined her head. “I know that, my lord.” She smiled graciously. “One of my servants unsuspectingly told Lady Mary, and I feel she is probably on her way to Windsor by now.”
The Bishop sucked in his cheeks. “But for what reason, Your Majesty?”
He saw Catherine’s impatience, but knew she would play the game out in his way.
“She has always had a fondness for Humphrey; and after all, he is her kinsman, as indeed he is yours, my lord.”
The Bishop nodded his head sagely, as if the whole thing had suddenly become clear to him.
“It is unfortunate. The news might have come better from yourself, Your Majesty.”
Catherine stared at him, smiling in reluctant admiration. He was a wily old fox!
“The danger now is that he may have a reception committee to see that my husband meets with an unfortunate accident. You see our difficulty, my lord?”
He did, only too well! Hadn’t he, the Bishop, been at the receiving end of Humphrey’s viciousness some time ago? “I do see, my lady, but what can I do to help?”
He hoped it would be nothing too energetic or demanding. He needed all his strength to see to his own affairs.
“Send a message to Lady Mary,” Catherine smiled sweetly. “Tell her we will arrive at first light in the morning.” She leaned forward. “That isn’t too difficult, is it?”
He was surprised. The Queen was more perceptive than he’d imagined. He bowed as well as his old bones would allow.
“I will send a messenger immediately, Your Majesty.”
* * *
The cloth around the horses’ hooves muffled any sound they might have made, and in the pale moonlight their steaming breath gave them a ghostly appearance.
Catherine was enjoying herself enormously and found that she could ride with ease dressed as she was in boy’s clothing.
“Who would recognise the Queen of England now,” she laughed breathlessly.
Once out into the open countryside, they could give the horses free rein; and Catherine followed Owen, laughing with delight, and struggling to speak against the force of the wind.
“Let them all wait for us at Windsor in the morning. By then, we will be safely settled in at the Royal Manor House. And not even Humphrey will dare to disturb us there!”
The sound of the horses’ hooves mingled with happy beat of her heart, as Catherine rode forward towards her new life.
Chapter Ten
“How I hate this English rain. It gives me bone-ache!”
Marie peered out of the window at the sodden landscape, her cheerful face giving the lie to her words.
Catherine eased herself into a chair.
“You think you’ve got worries; just wait until you feel the discomforts of childbearing, then you’ll have something to grumble about.”
She smiled happily, hoping that the child kicking so vigorously inside her would be the son that Owen so badly wanted.
“Your Majesty.”
One of the ladies was bowing low to Catherine, her eyes, sharp and curious, as they rested on her swollen figure. So far, none had dared question her about her relationship with Owen, though speculation was rife.
“Yes, what is it, Anne? Speak up.”
Catherine found it increasingly difficult to control the moods of irritation during her pregnancy, and the veiled hostility of the ladies was like a constant pin-prick to her.
“The Duke of Gloucester wishes to see you. Shall I admit him?”
Catherine made a wry face. “Yes. Tell him I will receive him now.”
In spite of herself, her hands trembled. This was the first time she’d seen Humphrey since the marriage.
He bowed formally. “I hope I am welcome in Your Majesty’s new residence?” he said coolly.
She inclined her head, and indicated that he should sit beside her. He had changed in only a few months. His face had grown more dissolute, and the firmness of his jaw was marred by folds of flesh that bulged over his collar.
“Joan the Maid has been captured,” he said abruptly, and for a moment, Catherine stared at him in amazement. This was the last thing she’d expected him to say. He saw her bewilderment. “The Frenchwoman, Madam, who tried to take away your son’s heritage.”
Comprehension dawned, and Catherine wondered why Humphrey thought the news so important that he brought it himself.
“We will recapture our rightful lands now, of course,” he said and leaned back, fat and self-satisfied, in the chair.
“And the Dauphin? Is there any news of him?” Catherine was almost afraid to ask.
Humphrey smiled scathingly. “He still styles himself king – but not for long.”
So, he still held the power! Charles had not lost his following, although the girl Joan was taken.
“What of Joan? What will become of her?” Catherine felt pity for the brave French maid.
“Naturally, she will be given a fair trial, once the Duke of Burgundy hands her over to us.”
“Ah, the duke.”
Catherine knew that Phillip would demand a hig
h price for so rich a prize; with him, money and power were twin ambitions.
“He is on our side.” Humphrey was obviously stung by her lack of response.
“My lord, the Duke of Burgundy will remain ‘on your side’, just so long as it suits him, and not a moment longer.”
Humphrey coughed uncomfortably. “In any event, she is taken, and that’s the end to the matter.”
The interview was not going at all as he had planned. He meant the reins to be firmly in his hands, but Catherine was still every inch a queen, in spite of her obvious pregnancy.
“Henry must go to France – as soon as it can be arranged, of course.”
And now, thought Catherine, we come to the real reason for the visit.
“Naturally, we would need Your Majesty’s consent to the journey.”
He stared almost rudely at her, and Catherine flushed, feeling naked under his eyes.
“You seem happy enough to leave the King in the hands of my brother John and myself, having occupied yourself away from him for some time.”
He was more in command now, Humphrey felt and relaxed a little, enjoying Catherine’s discomfort.
She rose to her feet suddenly, startling him out of his complacency.
“Remember to whom you are speaking, my lord!” Her dark eyes flashed, and Humphrey almost leaped from his chair. “I am still the Queen, daughter of a king, and mother of a king, and now sister of a king, however much you may sneer at Charles!” She looked for a moment as if she would strike him. “Remember this; I love my son, but I promised his father that I would leave his upbringing to you and John of Bedford. However, if you try me too far, my lord, you will regret it. I promise you that!”
“I meant no wrong, Your Majesty. Forgive me for angering you. I would like you to know that I have made arrangements for the King to visit you here for a time. I hope that pleases Your Majesty?”
Until that very moment, Humphrey had thought of no such thing; but it seemed to accomplish what he’d hoped. Catherine returned to her chair, still angry, but at least prepared to talk reasonably about her son’s future.
A Royal Ambition Page 9