A Royal Ambition

by A Royal Ambition (retail) (epub)

  Catherine bent over him. Their lips touching was like a flame. Owen turned to gain a better position and held her close, his hand inside her bodice.

  “Do you still desire me, my lord?” Catherine raised her dark eyebrows questioningly.

  Owen smiled. “I think it has been proved often enough, Catherine.” He frowned suddenly. “I hope you still desire me.”

  Catherine threw back her head and a peal of laughter startled the ladies, so that they stared openly wondering what the French queen was going to do next.

  “Wouldn’t it be a blow to your pride, Owen, if I no longer desired you?” She bent close to him quickly. “But I do, my lord.” Her meaning was clear and Owen lifted her in his arms and carried her tiny figure with ease into the bedchamber.

  * * *

  The Lady Margaret stood in the sweet grass, her tiny hands clenched to her side. Tears stood behind her long lashes and her upturned eyes were the colour of the moon.

  “There must be a reason!” she said fiercely, as one by one the lighted windows of the manor-house became dark. “He would not let me wait here alone, unless there was a reason.”

  But he did not come; and at last, defeated, she crept back to her bed.

  * * *

  “My lady, the preparations for the move to Hatfield are almost complete.”

  Marie moved swiftly across the room and Catherine suddenly noticed how vivacious Marie had become since her marriage to Tom Cooper. She was slimmer and there was a radiant bloom to her skin.

  “Thanks mostly to you, Marie, my ladies are all but useless when it comes to anything approaching hard work. Have you sorted out baby Edmund’s clothes? So many of them are too small now.”

  Marie smiled joyfully. “Yes, my lady, it’s all done. He’s the bonniest baby I’ve ever seen.”

  Her love for the child was obvious, and Catherine was touched to the heart.

  “Come here, Marie,” she said softly in French. “I have news that not even my husband knows yet! I am with child once more.”

  “My lady,” Marie’s voice was anxious. “How do you feel?”

  She sat at Catherine’s feet, her eyes scanning the Queen’s face. She looked well; her hair shone with health and her dark eyes were bright and full of humour.

  “Don’t worry, Marie. I have my sons with ease. Have you not noticed?” She smiled a secret smile. “My lord will be happy.”

  Marie stiffened. There was talk that Owen Tudor was very much interested in the pale little Lady Margaret.

  “What is it, Marie? Don’t you think he will be delighted by my news?”

  “Of course he will, my lady. A man must enjoy being confronted with the evidence of his manhood.”

  There was a slight trace of longing in her voice, and Catherine was quick to notice it.

  “Don’t grieve; there is time for you yet,” she smiled warmly. “Where is Owen? I need him with me. Please find him, Marie.”

  She turned to look out at the sunlit garden and didn’t see the guarded expression that came to Marie’s face.

  “I will find him, my lady,” she said softly.

  * * *

  Owen bent over Catherine’s hand and kissed it almost reverently. The news Marie had imparted brought him to her side without delay.

  “I am more pleased than I can tell you. How do you remain so beautiful, and yet carry my children?”

  Catherine smoothed her lips against his hair. “Happiness is the answer, my lord.”

  She sat down carefully, and Owen leaned over her chair.

  “Our baby will be born at Hatfield,” she said. “I am tired of this place, and wish to be more comfortably accommodated. Do you think you will like it there?”

  Owen shrugged. “Wherever you are, Catherine, that is home to me.”

  She reached up and pulled his head down so that their lips touched. “You will look after me always, won’t you Owen?” Her eyes were misted with tears, and Owen quickly knelt before her, holding her close to him.

  “You are more precious to me than life itself. I will love you and care for you so long as there is breath in my body.”

  She clung to him for a moment, and then with a small laugh released him.

  “I must be getting old. I have become fanciful and morbid lately. I don’t understand it. Maybe it will be better when we have moved into our new home.”

  Owen let her go reluctantly. “I shall call Marie and have her bring you some wine. You look a little pale, and it could be because of the baby. Wine warms the blood; even my mother took a little on occasion.”

  He smiled, thinking of his stern Welsh mother, a small but determined woman, not unlike Catherine herself.

  “What are you smiling about, Owen?” Catherine said softly.

  “I was wondering if we would have a daughter this time. It would be a fine thing to have a tiny replica of you; and we could call her after my mother. I would like that.” Owen looked thoughtfully at the Queen’s rounded figure. “You could be carrying a daughter, don’t you think?”

  Catherine shook her head, pushing Owen playfully away.

  “I have a feeling that inside me grows another son; so save your mother’s name for the next time!”

  * * *

  Hatfield was charming, surrounded by stretches of green fields, and leafy trees. Catherine walked slowly because of her size, but nevertheless enjoying her tour of the sunny, newly decorated rooms.

  “I’m pleased to see you smiling, my lady.”

  Marie held young Edmund in her arms, ignoring the fact that he was busy chewing at the ribbon from her hat.

  “I feel altogether more cheerful here. It truly seems a home at last for the Tudor family.” She turned to look for her husband. “Owen, come and see the chair I have had especially made to accommodate your long frame. Do you not think it magnificent?”

  Owen gently enclosed her in his arms. “This is a happy house Catherine. See how the sun penetrates into every corner.”

  He kissed her lovingly and neither of them saw Marie hastily make the sign of the cross to ward off any evil influences that might be made jealous by so much happiness.

  Chapter Twelve

  The lusty cry of a newborn infant echoed along the stone corridors, and for a moment the household held its breath. Then there was laughter and among the more devout, the mumble of prayers said in thanksgiving for the Queen’s safe delivery.

  Owen held his infant son, overjoyed at the strength in the small limbs of the child.

  “A fine boy, Catherine.”

  His eyes were alight as he leaned over his wife. She was pale and exhausted against the bolster, her long hair tangled over her forehead. She smiled up at him and then closed her eyes. “Thank God,” she said simply.

  Owen handed the child to its nurse and sat beside Catherine, taking her hand in his.

  “You must sleep now and recover some of your strength,” he said, smoothing her hair away from her face tenderly.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Shall we call him Jasper? It seems a fitting name for such a vigorous boy.”

  A smile warmed Owen’s eyes. “It shall be anything you wish, Catherine. It is an excellent name. Yes, Jasper it shall be.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed in contentment and relief. This son had been a long time coming, and she was not so young any more. She turned her face into the softness of the bolster and gave herself up to the feeling of drowsiness that was claiming her.

  “The Queen’s sons are a sight to behold!”

  Marie sat in the bright sunlight, a smile of sheer contentment on her broad face. At her side was Lady Margaret, her yellow eyes shadowed in spite of the curve of her lips. Sensing something of the pain that Margaret was feeling, Marie pressed her hand. “Owen’s not for you, little one; but somewhere there is a knight young and strong. And he’ll come along and sweep you off your feet. You’ll forget all about Owen Tudor then.”

  Margaret attempted a smile. She knew the older woman intended to be kind, but how cou
ld she know the depths of emotion that carried away all sense of good reason?

  Marie laughed in delight. “Just look at young Edmund aim a punch at Henry. He neither knows nor cares that his brother is King of England!”

  Henry too had forgotten that he was king. He rolled in the soft summer grass with his bright-haired half brothers, for once genuinely happy with no one to scold him for his lack of dignity. He dropped to his knees and tickled the fat stomach of little Jasper who promptly pulled a handful of his fine fair hair.

  “Naughty boy, Jasper,” Henry laughed even as he scolded and was gratified when the boy put fat arms about his neck.

  “Let us hope that the young king will always be as fond of the Tudor boys as he is now.”

  A shadow passed momentarily over Marie’s happiness and quickly she crossed herself. Margaret glanced at her in surprise. “Don’t worry, the Queen will see that the children are well cared for. I should think that a good future is certain for the children of Owen Tudor.”

  Unaccountably, Marie did not feel reassured, but she made an effort to recapture her earlier happier frame of mind.

  * * *

  John of Bedford urged his horse forward, exhilarated by the fresh English breeze. It was so good to be home. Above him was the pale bowl of the sky, and the sun was moderate and golden: so different from the brazen sun of France.

  “You are looking well, John.”

  Humphrey spoke pleasantly, but there was an edge of irritation underlying his words. John glanced at him, wondering at the change in his brother since he’d seen him last; then he had been young and handsome, but now his skin hung in grey folds and his breath was evil and stale.

  “Humphrey, you should take more care of your own health.”

  “My health is all right.” Humphrey’s brow furrowed. “But you and our dear uncle, the Cardinal, are continually trying to thwart me.”

  John pursed his lips determined not to quarrel.

  “You see, you do not even bother to deny it!” Humphrey’s voice rose to a whine. “That Welshman continues to flourish and breeds like a stallion on the wife of our dead brother. Why is he allowed to get away with it? Answer me!”

  John’s first impulse was to spur his horse forward, but he sighed and tried patiently to explain.

  “Catherine is the Queen of England, mother of the King. There is no doubt that she was ill-advised in her choice of a husband; but what can we do?”

  Humphrey growled low in his throat. “I’d have the heathen thrown in prison, and left to rot!” he said venomously.

  “Take care, Humphrey, you are treading on dangerous ground. If the Queen had any idea of how you felt she could make life very troublesome for you!”

  He looked up wryly at the peaceful sky.

  “Humphrey, it is imperative that I raise money for the war. That is my main mission here.”

  He rode in silence for a moment, then sitting up straight looked directly at his brother.

  “I’m with you on this matter, John. We must continue to fight for the French throne. It was our brother Henry’s right, and it is the right of his son.”

  John sighed with relief. At least Humphrey was still with him on this vital issue.

  * * *

  The Queen was delighted to receive him. As he bent low over her hand John could not help but notice that once again she was with child. Behind her stood the tall, strikingly handsome Owen Tudor, and at her side were the two red-haired Tudor boys.

  “The King will be with us in a moment.” Catherine smiled warmly, her eyes clear and direct as they looked into his, and in spite of everything John was glad that she had found happiness.

  “Ah, here is His Majesty now.” Catherine waved her hand in the direction of the door where the courtiers were bowing before the King. “See for yourself, my lord.”

  John’s heart turned over. For the moment it seemed as if his brother stood there before him. Then he noticed the weakness in the boy’s mouth, and the slight tremble in his hands.

  “Your Majesty, you have grown taller since we last saw each other in France. We had such a good time there, didn’t we? The coronation was magnificent, and you acted like a true king.”

  Henry’s face lit up. “It is good to see you again, uncle. Is the war going well?”

  John felt a momentary irritation. Surely a boy of eleven, and a king at that, should take the trouble to acquaint himself with the true facts about the French campaign?

  “We have our problems. I have come home in order to raise money. The army is desperately short of it at the moment.” He stared thoughtfully at Henry for a moment. “Phillip of Burgundy is beginning to turn his coat, to my way of thinking. He is already demanding further concessions, and if we don’t see fit to grant them, he has threatened to withdraw his allegiance.”

  The young king was staring with large innocent eyes, obviously worried, but quite unable to make any constructive remarks. It was Catherine who spoke.

  “Phillip was always out for his own interests as you know, John. Offer him some juicy morsel, and he’ll stay with England.”

  John sighed. “Unfortunately, we have nothing to offer. The coffers are empty.”

  To his surprise, Catherine laughed. “John, why must you always be so honest!” Her dark eyes twinkled as she looked at him. “Find out what he really wants, and dangle the promise of it before his eyes. His greed and natural caution will surely make him hesitate for a few months while he thinks there may be some gain for himself. That will, at least, give you breathing space.”

  John bowed before her, warming to her good sense. “I wish I’d thought of that myself, Madam. I am obliged to you.”

  Catherine rose and held her arm to him. “Come now; let us eat and drink and forget war for the time being.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Don’t be silly Marie. Of course I can go out!” Catherine pushed aside the bedclothes and struggled over the edge of the bed laughing at her ungainly size. “The child isn’t due to be born for another two weeks, and I won’t be at the abbey that long; though I admit the Cardinal makes the time hang heavy with his long speeches!”

  Her eyes were sparkling merrily and she felt well and strong, the toothache that had plagued her for the past weeks having vanished into thin air.

  “Let me see; now what can I wear without looking like a ship in full sail?” She padded around on bare feet while Marie exclaimed in horror at her foolishness. “Don’t worry so,” Catherine smiled. “The physicians have told me there is nothing better than the cold stone for relieving the cramps.” She gave a little skip. “Not that I have the cramps today. In fact, I’ve never felt better. The red dress, I think. Marie, hold it against me so that I can see how it looks.”

  She held her head to one side as she considered, and her hair long and dark, hung below her waist.

  “Do I have to come?” Marie said quickly. “I find it so tiresome to sit and listen to such dour preachings.”

  “Nevertheless, you shall come,” Catherine said gaily. “What about my husband, where is he?”

  Marie looked around helplessly as if expecting him to peer out of the cupboard from among the Queen’s dresses.

  “Send someone to find him, otherwise he will have ridden off knowing full well that I have such a treat in store for him.”

  “I’ll find him, my lady,” Marie said softly.

  * * *

  “She knows, I tell you!” Margaret walked beside Marie, a slender, pale girl, her eyes large and luminous, almost golden in colour.

  “Calm yourself, my lady. What is there to know?” Marie patted her hand affectionately. “You are imagining things, and it is foolish to show your feelings so openly.”

  “She knows that I love Owen Tudor,” Margaret persisted. “But at the moment, she is indulgent, knowing that I am not a temptation to him.”

  “Why don’t you allow the Queen to arrange a marriage for you? You are young and could have fine sons. Don’t waste your life chasing a dream.
”

  “Marie, you don’t understand. How can I marry one man, loving another?”

  Marie sighed in exasperation. “These sentiments are only going to lead to trouble. Perhaps it would be better if you left the Queen’s household.”

  At the sharpness in Marie’s voice, the girl began to weep.

  “What’s this? Who has dared to offend such a sweet girl?”

  Marie looked up into the questioning face of Owen Tudor, with a feeling of dismay. The last thing she wanted was for him to begin taking an interest in Margaret again.

  “It is only a mood, my lord,” she said quickly. “The Queen sent me to find you. She would like to see you immediately. She wants company on her outing to Westminster.”

  As she hoped, he was distracted. “The Queen going out? Isn’t that rather dangerous, Marie?”

  She gave Margaret a small meaningful push, and obediently the girl quietly slipped away.

  “I have told the Queen Catherine so, but as usual she refuses to listen. In fact, I have to accompany her too.”

  She smiled wryly at Owen and he returned her smile.

  “Well, if it’s what the Queen wants, then I suppose like the two bemused idiots we are, we’ll go along with her!”

  He took her arm, and looked down at her shrewdly.

  “Did you have to rush the poor Lady Margaret away like that? I didn’t realise that I’m such a dragon, that no young girl is safe in the vicinity!”

  Marie’s face was bland. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, my lord. As for your being safe, I’m still here, am I not?”

  * * *

  The Cardinal took great pains over his appearance. The Queen was to attend today’s ceremony, and that being the case the abbey was almost certain to be full. He rubbed his dry hands in anticipation. He liked nothing more than to dazzle his listeners with the eloquence of his words. He looked up with some irritation as one of his servants interrupted his pleasant line of thought.