A Rose for the Crown: A Novel

by Anne Easter Smith

  “Good day, Dame Katherine. I hope Molly be well.”

  “Aye, Wat, she is well. It is only three hours since you saw her. Good heavens, you are as bad as a rutting stag.” Kate laughed at him. “What say all the other wenches you have forsaken for Molly? There must be a basket of broken hearts in Stoke.”

  “Nay, madam. I fear they have forgotten me, for I have been lovesick for Molly this twelvemonth or more.” He was eager to prove his steadfastness.

  Kate patted his arm and passed into the hall. Margaret had sent for her, and she was anxious to know what their day together would bring. Her friend was opening up new worlds for her at Tendring. Margaret was an avid reader and also enjoyed long discussions with Jack on politics, commerce ships and farming, Jack’s favorite topics. Kate was proud to be Margaret’s friend and to be included in these discussions: Her horizons were being expanded.

  Lettice and William ran down the stairs and chased each other round the hall before coming to a standstill in front of her. They were followed closely by Rose, who was her usual sour self.

  Rose scowled. “My mistress tells for you to go up to the tower room, madame. Et alors, mes enfants, you come back to your chambre with me, s’il vous plaît.”

  Kate smiled at them. “Go along, children. I shall come and see you anon.” She knocked on Jack’s office door, and a tall, balding man let her in. “Good day to you, Master Bliant. I hope I do not disturb you. Lady Howard would see me.”

  John Bliant’s face did not move a muscle. He bowed and resumed his seat at the table. Certes, he is a dour man, Kate thought as she went through the archway to the stairs in the tower. It was curious that Jack had chosen him as steward among his gentlemen to follow the infirm John Braham. Jack assured her that Bliant kept his accounts perfectly and that he would work on his servant’s prickly personality.

  “Margaret!” she called as she mounted the circular stone stair to the second story.

  She wondered why no one responded. The warmth from a crackling fire reached her as she arrived at the top of the staircase that spilled directly into the sunny solar. Kate’s heart missed a beat when she saw the reason for Margaret’s silence.

  “Richard! Oh, Richard!” She was laughing and crying at once as she ran into his arms. He stopped her mouth with a kiss that melted away months of separation.

  “I am sorry I did not get word to you, Kate. But my lord of Warwick has gone to Calais, and I had the chance to leave the palace. So I rode hard to see you.” He took her hands and studied her. “Let me look at you, my sweet rose. ’Tis too long.”

  “Almost a year it would seem. I have missed you so much, but you are diligent with your letters—and I am not. I thank you for them all.” She kissed him again and then remembered, “You have yet to see your child, Richard. She is beautiful, you will see.”

  Kate could not stop talking, she was so elated by this unexpected meeting. She never doubted Richard’s feelings for her and trusted him to be loyal. For her part, she knew she could love no one but him. They appraised each other. She saw a less boyish face, a grimness to his mouth and the beginnings of a furrow between his eyebrows. He had grown an inch or more and filled out across the chest and shoulders. He observed the more womanly curves and a new serenity of expression and thought motherhood had only improved her.

  “Jack told me to tether my horse at the tower and use that door to enter. I left John—my squire—at the inn in the village. Margaret was here when I came, and I am afraid I frightened her for a moment.” He grinned. “She told me to wait while she sent for you.”

  “If your horse is here, can we not ride to my house? How long can you stay? Surely you must stay overnight. Please say you will.” Her golden eyes implored him.

  “Aye, I will stay overnight. Margaret knows and gave me leave to go with you without further discourse with her. She is kindness itself. Come, I have much to tell you.”

  They cantered down the drive to Dog Kennel House and dismounted by the front door. Richard was so impatient to see Katherine that there was no time to warn Molly. She was mending a tear in Kate’s cloak while Katherine slept peacefully in the oak cradle. When the child’s parents entered, Molly jumped up in fright and made Richard a low curtsy. He smiled at her and put his finger to his lips, and she backed out of the room. Richard gazed at his child. Katherine had already found her thumb, and from time to time her mouth worked around it as she slept.

  “She is perfect! Look at those tiny fingers, the fingernails! I cannot believe she is mine. Oh, my dear, my heart is filled with pride and joy.”

  He drew Kate to him and kissed her tenderly. The response in her loins was reflected in the familiar letting down in her breasts, and she knew it was time for Katherine’s next feed. As if on cue, the baby opened her eyes and smiled at the two faces watching her. Her swaddling restricted her, but she cooed and gurgled prettily for her father, who gingerly picked her up and held her.

  “I did not believe until this moment that I was a father. When your letter came telling me of our daughter, it was all so far away—not real. I did not have the pleasure of watching her grow within you or of the birthing. It was as though it had happened to someone else. Can you understand this, Kate?” Richard was speaking to Kate but he could not take his eyes off his daughter.

  “Aye, Richard. I can. A man’s involvement in the making of a child is so fleeting, and yet we could not do it without him,” Kate teased him. “For all you are brave fighters and will know pain in battle, I doubt many men would endure the pain of childbirth more than once.”

  Richard laughed, and the noise caused Katherine to change her happy burbling to a cry of fear and then annoyance that her mother was not tending to her hunger pangs. Very soon, the rafters were ringing with the wailing, and Richard was happy to hand the fussing infant to her mother. He watched, fascinated, as the child latched onto Kate’s breast, and peace reigned once more.

  “You said there was much to tell me, Richard.” She maneuvered Katherine into a better position in order to take his hand. “We have some time before Katherine is sated, so pray tell your news. It seems you have been busy. I know Jack has been in London for many months to victual a fleet for the king to attack France, and Jack’s son, Nicholas, sailed with my lord Scales.”

  “’Twas through Jack I learned you were installed here. I wanted to come as soon as I heard, but I was commissioned by Edward to preside over a trial for treason in Salisbury.”

  “Treason! Who commited treason?” Kate was wide-eyed.

  Richard was wistful. “How sheltered you are here, Kate. I am glad of it, in truth. But you should know that since I saw you at the abbey, Lancastrian supporters have been conspiring against Edward up and down the country, those foolish men who would put poor, mad Henry back on the throne. Edward’s spies ferreted out many of the conspirators, and they were arrested. Some of them he pardoned but others were punished. It appears two of them had been in contact with Queen Margaret in France, and when they were arrested, a third came to light: John de Vere, earl of Oxford.”

  “De Vere? But he is lord of Lavenham and many manors nearby.”

  “Aye, a powerful man. These three and others were plotting with the She-wolf to murder Edward.” His brow was knit and his mouth set hard. “Honey-tongued Oxford secured his own release, but the other two were brought to trial. I was part of it, and it was the first time I had witnessed men sentenced to die. To be hung, drawn and quartered is the fate of a political criminal, Kate, and these two men became as white as those ashes there when they heard the pronouncement. A truly hideous death.”

  Kate shuddered at the thought and hoped she would never have to see such horror. She transferred the baby to her other breast and covered the first one modestly.

  “I can see in your face that you have had to witness much this twelvemonth, Richard. Perhaps a night here will help bring you some peace.”

  “’Twas not peace I came seeking tonight, Kate, or I would be lying in the forest with on
ly my horse for company.”

  Kate feigned shock. “Richard! Not in front of the child!”

  He would not let Kate sleep long that night. He could not resist her warm, smooth body, and the depth of feeling he had for her as mother of his child caused their loving to rise to a new plateau of mutual trust. He dreaded the day when he would have to tell her he was promised to another. More and more he thought of the alliance between his family and Warwick’s. Anne would be ready soon, and he could be content as her husband. But he would never feel toward her as he now felt for Kate. It was heaven-sent, he supposed, though the illicitness of the liaison did cause him some anxiety before his God at his daily prayers.

  “Kate, are you awake?” he asked later.

  “Only just. Why?”

  “I wanted to tell you that I love you,” he said simply. “And I am trying to understand how I came to win your love.”

  Kate raised herself on one elbow and traced the profile of his face with her finger. “Perhaps it was your nose”—she kissed it—“or your very stubborn chin”—she kissed that, too. “Or maybe ’twas your expert love-making that turned my head . . .” Richard chuckled. Then, with a seriousness he had not heard before, she told him, “Nay, Richard, ’twas your loyalty that won me—and now it ties me to you.” She snuggled into him. “I pray you, my lord, may I sleep now?”

  “Loyalty ties me to you,” he repeated, considering the words. “Aye, it binds me, too, my love.”

  A LOUD KNOCKING disturbed the household not long after Richard and Kate had broken their fast. Richard was lounging in his hose and shirt when Wat ran up the stairs and knocked on the door. Richard threw his traveling robe over his head and quickly belted it before Kate called “Come” from her chair by the newly laid fire. Katherine was once more hungrily at her breast.

  Wat entered, bowed to Richard and grinned nervously. “Pardon me, my lord. I brung a message from Lady Margaret. A messenger be come from Colchester—from my master in London—and my lady wants to see you at once at the hall.”

  “Thank you, Wat. You may go now that you have discharged your duty.” Kate waved him away, certain Molly would have told Wat of Richard’s presence in the house. She hoped he would be discreet, and she made a note to ask Molly to keep Wat from spreading the word.

  “God’s bones! I wonder what is amiss.” Richard pulled on his boots, took Kate’s comb and ran it through his unruly waves. “Do I look presentable, Kate?” he asked as he set a soft wool hat on his head.

  “Always, my love,” she teased.

  He bent over and kissed her and Katherine and went downstairs for his horse. Wat had just finished saddling the beautiful animal and was stroking her muzzle when Richard came out of the house. Richard realized Wat must have taken care of the horse the night before.

  “I thank you—Wat, is it? ’Tis not often I neglect my horse, in truth. Here is something for your trouble.” He tossed Wat a silver coin. Then he was in the saddle and cantering up the drive to the hall.

  Not long afterward, horse and rider reversed their journey, and Richard came once more into the cosy chamber. This time he looked grim.

  “What is it, Richard? What is the matter?” Kate put the now-sleeping Katherine in the cradle and ran to him.

  “There is an uprising in Yorkshire. Fortunately Jack knew where to find me. I am to return at once in case I am needed to ride north.” He spoke quickly, gathering his sword and cloak. “I must leave you, sweetheart. I thank God for this night with you and His goodness in allowing me to see my daughter. I promise I will see you again soon. My heart is with you.”

  “I will keep our child safe until then, Richard. I miss you already.” She held out her arms, and they embraced for a moment. “I’ll pray to the Virgin that you will not have to go.”

  “Do not fret, Kate. ’Tis more appealing than the petty politics I must endure at court. Fare you well, my dearest heart.”

  Kate followed him out and waved as he took the lane to the village and on to London.

  ROBIN OF REDESDALE’S APRIL REBELLION was quickly dispersed by John Neville, earl of Northumberland, great Warwick’s brother. In May an uprising broke out in east Yorkshire with another Robin, Robin of Holderness, at its head. By the end of the month, order was thought to have been restored. The tranquility lasted but a few days. Robin of Redesdale reared his rebellious head again, this time in Lancashire, and attracted large numbers to his banner. Edward decided to act himself and began to muster troops to march north and quash the rebels once and for all. Jack was chosen to accompany him, and at the last minute Edward decided to introduce Richard to the rigors of campaigning. So confident was Edward of his strength and ability to quell a few hundred miscreants that he did not hurry. In fact, he decided to detour into East Anglia, drum up some support and make a pilgrimage to Bury St. Edmunds and Our Lady of Walsingham along the way.

  Margaret received word from Jack that if she and Kate were able to travel quickly, they could meet at Bury. He did not think Edward and Richard would linger long there, however.

  “I like not the happenings in the North, wife. They appear too organized for petty mutiny. A more cunning mind is behind them, mark my words. I shall not put a name to them here. I shall look for you in Bury mid month, where the king and Richard will worship at St. Edmund’s shrine.”

  Margaret grumbled at Jack and crumpled the letter; she was not in the mood for a pilgrimage. Then, remembering the cryptic reference to treason, she lit a taper from the warming box and burnt the parchment in the grate. She assumed this jaunt had more to do with the young duke of Gloucester’s need for his mistress than with Jack’s need of her. But obey her husband she must. She sent word to Kate to prepare for a pilgrimage to Bury and Walsingham and made a mental note of tasks that required her attention before they left.

  Kate received the news with surprise and pleasure. She arranged for a wet nurse from the village to take on Katherine’s feedings, which left her free to travel. Molly was now pregnant and Kate assured her the baby would be welcome in the house alongside Katherine.

  “Molly!” Kate called as she entered the house from the new herb garden she was tending. “We are to join Lady Margaret on a pilgrimage within the week. We must prepare.”

  “A pilgrimage, madam?”

  “Aye, Molly. Pray do not raise your eyebrow. I have many reasons to be penitent, as you well know. ’Twill ease my burden of guilt to beg forgiveness of Our Lady at Walsingham. ’Twould do your soul no harm either, my girl.”

  Molly dutifully hung her head, but her mouth twitched as she went back to work.

  “ALMS! ALMS!” was the ubiquitous cry on the road to Bury’s abbey, where the remains of St. Edmund, the martyred king of the East Angles, lay waiting to receive pilgrims’ pleas and penitence. Some on horseback, some barefoot, the steady stream of supplicants dug in their pouches for a coin to throw to those less fortunate than themselves.

  Kate had never seen so many afflicted human beings, even in London. One stretched out an arm covered in sores. Another stared vacantly into space with a milky blob that used to be an eye; the other eye was nothing but a black hole smothered in flies. Many had limbs missing, and one poor fellow had stubs where his legs should have been, which he exposed for all to gaze on as he sat in the dirt, begging. Kate and Margaret found themselves surrounded by healtheir beggars, who recognized gentry and hoped for charity from the two women. Margaret shooed them aside and whipped up her horse to plough through the throng, but Kate could not forbear throwing a couple of coins to the man with no legs. Like carrion on a dead rat, the other beggars fell upon the money, scrabbling for the pittance. Kate looked away in pity. She caught up with Margaret as they neared the abbey looming ahead.

  Bury was one of the largest abbeys in England. Stratford Langthorne paled in comparison. Pilgrims in large numbers could be housed at Bury—if they were able to pay—and Margaret and Kate had no trouble securing a bed in one of the huge dormitories. Molly had to sleep on the floor, and
Wat found a place among the many grooms at the large stables adjoining the main building. Abbey monks served the pilgrims, but there were those who supplemented their meals with food they had brought with them. During supper, several peddlers made the circuit of tables, selling different designs of badges that would identify a pilgrim on the way home. Kate and Margaret both purchased one and pinned the ornamental tin brooch on their clothes.

  The king and his entourage were expected on the morrow, the monk at the front gate told Margaret. Margaret whispered to Kate, as they made their way to their room, that she would be grateful for a good night’s sleep before the men arrived. “I love Jack dearly, Kate, but if I know him, he will have a lusty appetite when he sees me.”

  Kate smiled at Margaret’s relief, but she was disappointed that the men were not there to greet them. A night in Richard’s arms was all she could think about at that moment. Margaret presumed they would have more luxurious quarters once the king was installed, but at the end of the long day, the two women gladly shared a straw mattress and a blanket. Within minutes, Margaret was snoring lightly and Kate lay curled up, drifting in and out of sleep. She missed Katherine and wondered if her baby missed her. It was a few weeks since the wet nurse had taken over Katherine’s feedings, and Kate had been surprised by the fast onset of her monthly courses once she stopped breastfeeding. She had grimaced the first time she discovered she was back on a cycle; she disliked the confinement women were forced to endure every month. Thanks to sweet Mary for this timing was her final prayer before falling asleep to dream of Richard.