A Rose for the Crown

by Anne Easter Smith

She nodded, his earnestness making her smile. “How could I not, my lord, when I look into your eyes and see your soul. How could anyone not trust those eyes, Richard?” She paused, stroked his face and felt the soft hair that would one day be a strong beard. Then she asked again, “What of adultery?”

  “I do not believe ’tis adultery. God knows you have tried! I will risk the hellfires with you, Kate, but let me know your love.”

  She bent forward and brushed his lips with hers, again feeling her heart give a great somersault. Taking her kiss as a signal, Richard needed no more incentive. He embraced her, covering her face with kisses and whispering her name. This time she allowed his hand to cup her breast and he lowered his lips to kiss it through her bodice.

  Kate took his face in her hands and away from her bosom. “Perhaps we should move away from the window, my lord.”

  The window looked out over the herb garden and the grove beyond. It was likely one of the gardeners or a groom might wander into view. She was astounded when Richard picked her up in one swift motion and carried her to the bed. He had not given her the impression of tremendous strength, but she appeared to be a feather in his arms. She helped the novice with her complicated overdress and soon the cumbersome garment was tossed aside and his hands could feel her skin under the chemise. They knelt on the bed, facing each other. He untied the knot that held her cap, and her heavy braid fell down her back, unwinding in his impatient hands.

  It was her turn to disrobe him, and he allowed her to unhook his jacket and peel the padded garment off, revealing his short doublet, to which were laced his hose. They had said not a word during the process, mindful of each other’s personal privacy, but their impatience grew. Being naked together was not considered respectful, but a man normally removed his hose. However, that would take time. Richard’s fingers fumbled with his points, but when Kate leaned forward and drew his bent head to her breast, he abandoned the attempt and pushed her gently down. His hands felt under her smock and made their way up her thighs and flat belly to the tantalizing nipples he had seen through the flimsy fabric. They were hard and her breasts silky-smooth and firm. He felt his erection straining in his codpiece. What to do now? he thought in a panic. His hands were reluctant to relinquish their delicious fondling. Kate came to his aid. Her hand found the string and unloosed the offending piece of cloth. He moved his body up to kiss her, and one hand eased her smock higher. Kate thought she would swoon with joy when he found his way into her, but the sharp pain made her cry out for a second before she became used to the unfamiliar hardness moving in her. As she began to respond, Richard’s desire was too much for him, and he came quickly with a groan of ecstasy. He subsided gingerly onto her, unaware Kate had not reached her own climax. She was still moving under him, but in his inexperience he simply thought he was a burden on her and rolled off onto the bed. Kate was not disappointed, however, for the sweetness of the act seemed enough for her, and she found it not at all the onerous business that Martha had claimed and that she had experienced with Thomas. They lay embracing for some moments before Richard asked her, “Was this the first time for you, too? I thought perhaps I had hurt you.”

  “Aye, Richard, in truth, you are the first. My husband Thomas did bed me many times, but he was an old man and had trouble . . . he could not . . .” She hesitated, not wishing to demean her first husband, but then told Richard of Thomas’s many attempts to get her with child, including his fateful final effort. Richard kissed her cheek sympathetically and was surprised to taste salt. He propped himself up on one elbow and saw that she was crying.

  “Have I hurt you, Kate? I should not have asked . . . I should not have pried. I beg your pardon.”

  He went to the ewer and splashed water onto a clean cloth and came back to the bed. He gently wiped her face. His nakedness gave Kate a thrill of desire that engulfed her. She caught his hand and kissed it, lightly biting the fleshy mound under his thumb. Richard was surprised to feel a mounting desire in his groin again. This time, he lifted the smock to gaze on her perfect body and attacked her nipple with such passion that she laughed and rolled him under her. Her shift landed in a heap next to the other clothes. This time, with a little more movement of her hips, Kate’s young body gave itself up to an intense pleasure.

  RICHARD EXITED THE ROOM after Kate helped him to dress. He almost collided with Molly, who was patroling the hallway. Molly gave an awkward curtsy, and Richard asked her to see to her mistress. She nodded briefly and walked back into the chamber. Kate’s radiant smile told the maidservant that her mistress had been pleasured. His grace, the duke of Gloucester, no less, Molly thought proudly, as she helped Kate into her new gown. Aye, my mistress is worthy of a duke any day of the week.

  Kate tiptoed back to the solar. She had been gone no more than an hour, but in that hour her life had been changed. She was cherished. Nay, she was loved! Her whole body smiled. Her skin tingled, and her mind reeled. Mother of God, everyone will know, she thought as she walked into the room. She could not believe she was greeted with no more interest than if she had been out to the privy. Margaret was on her knees, pretending to be a dog for Lettice, who was squealing with laughter at her mother, and William was attacking the needlewomen with a wooden sword. Agnes and Edith were hiding behind the tapestry as if afraid for their lives, while Rose, looking as starched as her wimple, refused to participate in the game and continued to sew.

  “Il est abominable!” Rose muttered. “Is un monstre.”

  “He is just a boy, Rose. Don’t be such a spoilsport.” Edith threw up her hands in mock surrender as William jiggled the sword in front of her chest.

  “William! Not so close. ’Tis dangerous to wave a weapon so close, even in sport,” Kate admonished him, swiftly moving the boy a foot or two back from his cowering victims and nodding her approval. “There! ’Tis better. Now you truly cannot hurt Edith.”

  “Kate! I missed you this little while. You were with Molly, I understand,” Margaret asked from her lowly position. “Are you going to outshine your hostess again tonight with another confection?”

  Kate laughed, and it seemed to her the laugh was too loud, too happy and too much for the others not to notice. But no one was observing her strangely, and she concluded she was not looking or acting differently from usual. “Far be it for me to outshine you, my lady. That would indeed be ungracious of me. But this gown is one my husband Thomas had made from his finest silk, and I must confess, it is my favorite.”

  “Then I shall be forced to wear my scarlet to give you some competition. The law states clearly I should be dressed more richly.” Margaret smiled, getting off her knees. “Ladies, leave us and prepare my gown. Kate and I shall take good care of the children.”

  The three women tidied up the tapestry frame and thread basket and left the room. Margaret sent the children back to their chequers and sat in Jack’s chair, first removing a book she had been reading.

  “And where is the lord Richard? He was supposed to challenge me in chess.”

  “And so I will, Lady Margaret.” Richard nonchalantly walked into the room. “Will you take black or white? Good afternoon, Dame Katherine, I trust I find you well.”

  Kate was dazzled by his daring. She almost laughed. “In truth, my lord, you do find me very well,” she answered as demurely as she could, with a pounding heart. “But I fear you have kept Lady Margaret waiting. She is impatient to win.”

  “’Twas urgent business, I am afraid, my lady. Forgive me. But now I am ready for a challenge.” He picked up the handsome chess table and placed it in front of Margaret. He sat on a cushioned footstool and readied the board. Kate noticed a long strand of chestnut hair caught in a pleat in his jacket and rose to stand behind Margaret. She caught his eye and delicately pointed to it, making a face. Margaret was busy squaring her chess pieces, so Richard quickly removed the offending hair, flushing slightly. Then Kate blew him a kiss, and he almost dropped the pawn he was inspecting.

  “Come, my lord duke, I have c
eded you first move. Will you drop your men willy-nilly, or must I guess where you wish to place them?” Margaret’s eyes twinkled. She had spotted the hair immediately—and its removal—and had guessed Kate was helping Richard from behind her chair. “Do sit down, Kate. You make me anxious if you peer over my shoulder. I am not over-confident, I must confess, and Sir John has vastly overstated my prowess.”

  Whether Margaret was merely being modest or Richard unfocused was anyone’s guess, for a few moves later, Margaret captured Richard’s queen and called “Checkmate.”

  “I do hope, my lord,” Margaret said with mock gravity, “that you did not let me win. That is no way to gain my good graces, I can assure you.”

  “Nay, madam, I know not why but my mind is engaged elsewhere. Forgive me for a daydreamer. Next time I will match you queen for queen.” He was delighted to see Kate blush out of the corner of his eye. He turned his gaze to her. “Do you play, madam? Lady Margaret would teach you well.”

  Kate rose and went to help the children put away their game of chequers. “Lady Margaret has taught me much, my lord,” she said over her shoulder. “But I cannot impose on her kindness every hour of the day. I shall learn, I have no doubt. We have a board at Chelsworth.” She returned to her stool, and the children went to their mother. “If you would honor me, I would show my skill at backgammon, but I warn you, I do not play unless I can wager on the game.”

  Margaret was taken aback. Surely Richard would take offense at Kate’s boldness. I must teach her how to speak to a duke, Margaret thought, stroking Lettice’s flowing hair. Richard’s eyebrows were indeed raised, but not because of Kate’s flippancy.

  “You play backgammon?” Richard was eager. ’Tis one of my favorite pastimes, madam. I should be happy to wager with you. Where is the board?”

  Certes, the young man is indeed enamored of our Kate. I wonder how long it will be before . . . She stopped herself. Why, it may have already happened, she thought, looking from one radiant face to the other. By the Virgin, I do believe it has!

  Kate and Richard were already facing each other, the backgammon board between them. Both were digging through their purses for coins. And a wager was made. Margaret smiled and turned her attention to her chattering children.

  THE MOON WAS BRIGHT that night and cast a sheet of light along the hallway floor, making it easy for Kate to tiptoe to the solar, where Richard lay waiting.

  He had whispered for her to come as they supped and that he could not wait to love her again. Kate was afraid Jack would hear, but Margaret was keeping up a stream of chatter on Jack’s other side and artfully plying him with questions about his passion, his newest ship. Once Jack was satisfied that his royal guest was entertained enough by Kate, he indulged his wife’s curiosity, leaving Kate and Richard to their whispers.

  Kate was soon inside Richard’s chamber. His squire was there, waiting to draw the curtains around the bed and throw a log into the brazier before discreetly leaving the room for a place near the fire in the great hall.

  Their lovemaking was less tentative, more passionate than in the afternoon, and both enjoyed a rapture neither had known existed. But they also spent the night talking, as young lovers will, Kate telling him her impression of the first time she saw him and how she came to be at Edward’s coronation. What they had in common, they discovered, was that both were sent from home at an early age. When Kate asked about his mother, Richard went quiet.

  “I have not spent enough time with her to know if she is happy or no,” he began. “But I know she is a very brave and loyal lady. Edward says I am more like her than my father in character. I do not know what he means, unless it is that I am more serious than he and George. But I will tell you a tale about my mother that chills me every time I remember it. It has never left me and often inspires my nightmares.”

  Richard was sitting up, his arms wrapped around his knees, and Kate lay beside him, her hand caressing his back. They were both hot behind the heavy drapes, and Richard flung one open to let in some air. The warm glow of the firelight softened his features and played along his strong arms. He had two or three scars from his training, Kate saw. His face took on a far-off look.

  “’Twas the year of my seventh birthday. George and I went with our mother across the country to a place called Ludlow. It is a massive castle, fearsome to me then, for my birthplace, Fotheringhay, is a gentle place, even though it is also fortified. ’Twas there that I first met Edward and my brother Edmund. He was killed—murdered, you know—at Wakefield. My brothers seemed immense to me, and I was so proud of them, because they were already soldiers. How I wanted to be a soldier like them! But George and I were just boys.”

  “How old was George?”

  “He is three years older than me, and he is tall, like Edward—like my mother’s side. I am like our father, though I hardly remember him now. At Ludlow, Edward paid a great deal of attention to me, and Edmund and George seemed to become friends. I made a vow then that I would follow Edward to the ends of the earth. And I meant it.

  “Edmund was only sixteen—the age I will be in a few months. We spent a wonderful summer, at least it was for me. I learned to love the wild Welsh hills around us, so different from the flat fenlands I had known. I watched Edward and Edmund practice sword fighting and archery, and I was so happy. I was too young to know what was happening outside the walls.”

  “What was happening, Richard? Were your father’s enemies close by?” Kate was fascinated. Her childhood at Bywood Farm now seemed humdrum, and she could not imagine not meeting her siblings until she was seven.

  “Aye. They were close. My uncle—my mother’s brother, the earl of Salisbury—came riding in one day in September. He brought an army with him, but many of them had been wounded fighting King Henry’s forces on the way from Coventry. I should say the queen’s forces, because the addle-pated king was unfit to lead soldiers, and Queen Margaret was the leader, in truth. Then came my lord of Warwick, Salisbury’s son, and his troops. It was a glorious sight to behold—trumpets blaring, banners flying, horses and men jostling in the courtyard and beyond, and my father and mother standing on the castle steps to greet them. All those men camped in and around the castle, all ready to fight for York.” He paused, remembering.

  “Go on, Richard,” Kate whispered. “I can hear the horses, see the soldiers . . .”

  “My father and mother hated the queen. All I heard was She-wolf this and She-wolf that. With all those men at my father’s command, I imagined that Margaret would take one look and run away. After all, she was just a woman. Ouch!”

  Kate had pinched him hard on the rump, and he grinned at her.

  “My apologies. I forgot who I was bedding! Now, pray do not interrupt again, madam, I beg of you. The queen even spoiled my birthday feast. In the midst of it, a messenger arrived with news that she had moved on to Worcester and was closing fast. I did not understand numbers in those days and I did not know that her army was much larger than ours. My father sent petitions saying the York lords were loyal to the crown, because he knew his army was no match for hers. She just kept coming and coming—and then she was there, the She-wolf was there.” He broke off to gather his thoughts.

  “Betrayed.” His voice was flat. “That was what my father was—betrayed. Warwick brought with him the best soldiers from Calais, commanded by a traitor named Andrew Trollope. We did not know he was a traitor, but just before the battle, he ran over to the queen’s side with all his troops and gave away the battle plan.” His agitation mounted as he talked of Trollope. “There is nothing worse this side of hell than a traitor! If I ever find that man, I will kill him for the coward he is!” Richard thumped his fist several times on the bed, narrowly missing her leg.

  Kate was not prepared for his anger. She picked up his hand and drew it to her lips. Richard seemed unaware of his outburst and continued in a measured tone.

  “My father and the other lords decided they must fly. I remember that night. I was sitting in the sol
ar, looking down on the hall and watching the lords come and go, my father shouting, my mother crying, my brothers pacing up and down. My mother then came to put George and me to bed. When I awoke, there was chaos. I could hear shouts and shawms and the familiar sounds of horses and troops, but when I looked out of the window, I did not recognize anyone, and I could see smoke coming from the village. George and I were kneeling on the window ledge, watching, as soldiers pulled our grooms out of the stables and stuck them with pikes and knives.” His voice was harsh with painful memories. “The screams! I can still hear their screams. I saw a girl with her clothes ripped off and a man raping her, although I did not know what he was doing at the time. There was wine flowing in the courtyard and men licking it up and laughing at the butchering of the young grooms. Then there was smoke in the stables, and a few terrified horses galloped out and trampled on the bodies of the poor grooms. It was hell, I knew I was seeing hell!” Richard’s voice had risen to a crescendo. Kate pulled him down to her.

  “Hush, my lord, hush. ’Tis over and done. You are here, safe with me,” Kate soothed him. She hesitated but thought he needed to remember his first reason for telling her this. “Tell me about your mother. Just about your mother. What did she do? Where was your father?”

  Richard calmed down and lay in the crook of her arm. “My father and the army fled during the night. I was so tired, I suppose I slept through it all. My mother could not travel with them because of George and me and my sister Meggie—Margaret. We were too young to follow a fleeing army. My father thought that we would be safer alone, that the queen would not harm a woman and her children. In that he was right.

  “The next morning, my mother dressed us and led us out of the castle and to the market square. We stood on the steps of the market cross with all the looting going on around us until the queen herself arrived. You should have seen her, Kate, all in black armor on a black horse—the She-wolf herself, looking like a She-devil. She was terrifying, and I know I started crying. My mother stood there, proud and brave, and calmly asked for mercy for her, us and the townspeople. Everything went quiet, and even the drunken soldiers looked at her with some respect. Margaret had us marched away to a tent and then gave her soldiers permission to ransack our castle and pillage the town. So much for mercy!”