A Rose for the Crown

by Anne Easter Smith

  “Poor little thing!” It was Kate’s turn to growl, and Martin looked up in surprise.

  “Why, Kate. What has Anne Neville done to deserve your disfavor?”

  “Why, nothing, Father.” She said, turning a sweet smile on him.

  Martin shrugged. “Women!” he muttered and folded the letter.

  IT WAS NOT UNTIL three weeks later that Martin and Kate learned in their little backwater of the death of King Henry in the Tower of London—of melancholy was the word being put about, after hearing of the deaths of his son, of Somerset and thousands of his followers. Those close to King Edward knew otherwise, for it did seem too much of a coincidence that the day following Edward’s triumphant return to London, King Henry should expire of his own accord. None dared voice the dreadful thought. No one could deny it was possible the news from Tewkesbury had brought on a bout of madness. No one could deny that, in his madness, it was possible he hit his head on something so hard that he caused some who viewed the body to think he had died of a fractured skull.

  And no one would deny that with him died all the hopes of Lancaster.

  PART FOUR

  Loyaulté me lie

  (Loyalty binds me)

  —MOTTO OF KING RICHARD III

  18

  Suffolk and London, 1471–1472

  Katherine! Leave John alone.” Kate’s patience with her unruly three-year-old was fast running out. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon, the children were bored and tired and supper was another hour away. She dubbed it her Satan-sent hour.

  “Molly, take the children away and ready them for evening prayers, I beg of you.”

  “Aye, mistress,” Molly said, hiding a smile. She knew her mistress’s limitations at this time of day. Molly thought Katherine could do no wrong and indulged her every whim.

  “You spoil the child,” Kate complained.

  “Bah!” was Molly’s usual impertinent reply, and she had received more than one punishment for it. Kate was never angry with Molly for long, and she understood the woman’s devotion to Katherine. Molly and Wat had been unable to conceive another child despite vigorous attempts.

  Kate was proud of Katherine, if exasperated by her. The child had lost her lisp and spoke beautifully, and she was also an incorrigible mimic. Kate once caught her imitating Wat to the cook, scratching her head and her crotch and speaking in the Suffolk burr. She admonished her daughter, naturally. It did not do to poke fun at one servant in front of another. But she had to bite the inside of her cheeks not to laugh.

  Despite her pride in Katherine, it was baby John who tugged at her heart. He was Richard in miniature, but with an even more placid temperament. Life seemed happy and easy for the boy. Kate had yet to see him fly into a tantrum, unlike Richard, who was prone to sudden bursts of anger that dissipated quickly. Once, after a characteristic outburst by his younger brother, Edward had told Richard: “You need to curb your anger, my boy. Save it for the battlefield.”

  Kate smiled at the memory as she went down to the waiting household for evening prayers. She chose a scripture reading from the Sermon on the Mount, in which Jesus says, “Suffer the little children to come unto me.” During the silent prayer that followed, she fingered her rosary and murmured some aves before her mind wandered to the upcoming Yule season. Would she be left to her own devices, or would Martin return to see that the Haute family traditions were honored? Martin’s wound had taken its time to heal. In his forty-sixth year, his age and recent bereavement had weakened his constitution, making his body work twice as hard as once it had to knit his flesh and renew his strength. Kate had nursed him for many weeks before she deemed him fit to return to the queen’s household.

  During that time, Kate had made the journey back to Stoke to remove her belongings from Dog Kennel House. Margaret wept when she saw the cart piled high with the familiar furnishings, and the two women held each other close for many minutes before Kate gently pulled herself away.

  “Do not fret, Margaret, I shall visit you often. And you shall come to Chelsworth. ’Tis but nine miles and an easy journey.”

  Margaret blew her nose. “Aye, I know. But ’twill not be the same. I know Jack will regret the loss of your music.”

  Kate missed Margaret more than she dared to admit, and Katherine missed her little playmate, Cat. John was no substitute, and Kate knew some of Katherine’s temper tantrums were due in part to the little girl’s longing for her friend.

  She glanced at the kneeling figures facing her and wondered how long they had been praying. She had lost track of time. Most were still telling their rosaries, so she drifted back into her reverie.

  After Tewkesbury, she received word from Richard that he had been sent into the north to hold the Scots at bay. He might as well have been in Arabia he was so far from her. At least he was also far from poor Anne Neville, she thought grimly. Perhaps the king would find her a suitable match before Richard returned.

  A cough interrupted her uncharitable thoughts, and she looked up to see Molly eyeing her anxiously while she struggled with a squirming Katherine.

  “God keep you all this night. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Kate brought the ritual to an end, and the servants gratefully got up off their knees.

  THE VERY NEXT DAY, on the Feast of St. Nicholas, Martin returned briefly to Haute Manor with an invitation from Richard for Kate to spend Christmas in London. Kate was overjoyed. She had read in a letter from Margaret that there would be no Christmas at Tendring this year, for Jack had taken up his duties as deputy lieutenant of the Calais garrison. He and Margaret would now spend much of their time there.

  The sky was leaden and full of snow when Martin, with Kate riding pillion and the children tucked safely into the cart with Molly, finally left Chelsworth, but as they journeyed west, the weather improved, like the company’s spirits as they anticipated a Christmas in the city. Wat was at the reins of the cart, sitting next to Martin’s manservant, and the back was heavy with chests. Wat’s horse was tethered behind, and two armed men rode with Martin.

  In the middle of the third day, Martin stopped the little train before the drawbridge at Bishop’s Gate and rode by himself to the adjacent St. Mary Bethlehem Priory. He had brought two silver plates and a length of his father-in-law’s best wool to give to the nuns who had taken him in after Barnet. He returned barely half an hour later and found everyone warming themselves around a brazier. Kate was holding her nose. Being outside the imposing city walls at that gate meant enduring the stench from the Hounds Ditch, the city rubbish heap. The wind whistled unhindered down wide Bishopsgate Street, but before the party had ridden but a few hundred yards, Martin turned under the high stone gateway of a large, new town house. Kate waited for Martin to run another errand, but instead he dismounted and came to her. He looked up at her in surprise. “This is where you leave us, Kate. Do you not know my lord of Gloucester’s residence—Crosby Place?”

  Kate blinked at the building and shook her head. “Nay, Father. Richard’s apartments were at Baynard’s Castle, his mother’s residence, when I was here in April. This is a grand house indeed. In truth, I am right glad not to return to Baynard. ’Twas draughty and so large, I was lost for days.”

  Martin chuckled and helped her down. Within a few minutes, lackeys had removed Kate’s portion of the cartload, and a groom was taking Wat and her two horses to the stable. Richard’s new squire, Robert Tunstall, was on hand to usher Kate and the two children into the warm hall, and Molly fell in behind her mistress. Kate kissed Martin farewell.

  “I shall call on you in a few days, Kate, and see how you go on.” Inclining his head courteously to the squire, he took his leave.

  “I am glad to meet you, Master Robert,” Kate said, wondering if he knew who she was. “Is your lord from home?”

  “Aye, madam, he is at Westminster. But he is expected for supper.” Robert did not appear at all surprised by her arrival. He encompassed the great hall with a sweep of his arm. �
��This is where his grace meets with visitors and petitioners. But I suspect you would prefer me to show you to your apartment. You must be weary from your journey and need rest.”

  “Aye, Robert. Thank you. But let me look a while, this is so beautiful.”

  Kate had noticed the number of long windows from outside. Now that she was inside, the light filtered through the soft-hued stained glass and gave the room a radiance. She gazed up with pleasure. High above her, the painted scissor-beam ceiling was magnificent. At one end was an oriel window, at the other a massive fireplace.

  Once ensconced in her spacious chamber, its walls hung with Flemish tapestries and floors covered in soft Turkey carpets, a fire burning in the grate, Kate was ecstatic. She had dreaded returning to Baynard’s Castle, where she might have had to face the terrifying duchess of York. Cecily, Kate had been informed by Martin, preferred her own residence to the royal palace of Westminster, where Edward and Elizabeth now resided. To be in Richard’s private house was more than Kate could have hoped for. Here she would be far less conspicuous. She indulged in daydreaming for a moment, imagining her life had she not persisted in remaining anonymous. These luxuries would have been hers every day. Part of her longed to be accepted as Richard’s mistress, but still her pride prevailed. She also believed wholeheartedly that her lowly birth might hurt Richard. Why, people might even laugh at him for consorting with a peasant. Nay, it was best she remain hidden. She stretched her feet out to the fire and sighed.

  Molly had been taken to a small chamber along the hall that was decked out with wall hangings picturing rabbits, dogs and unicorns.

  “For the children,” Robert explained, trying not to stare at his master’s offspring. “My lord chose this chamber especially for his children. It looks out onto the garden.”

  Robert then knocked on Kate’s door and asked if he could provide her with anything.

  “If you please, Robert, if it be no trouble, I would dearly love to bathe. Is it possible?” She gave him one of her irresistible smiles, and he blushed and stammered that he was at her service.

  MOLLY WAS POURING ANOTHER ewer of hot water over her mistress’s submerged body when there was another knock at the door.

  “Kate! Are you there? May I enter?”

  Kate’s heart leapt. “Richard!”

  Molly put down the jug and opened the door.

  “Good day to you, Molly!” He grinned, then held open the door for the maid to leave. “Have no fear, I shall see to your mistress’s robing.”

  I am sure you will, Molly’s look said, as she curtsied and hurried out.

  “Richard! I am sorry you find me thus. I would have been dressed and beautiful for you, but you are back early,” Kate said, slipping sideways to greet him in the big copper tub and slopping water onto the floor. “Come, let me kiss you.”

  By then Richard had his doublet unbuttoned and was loosening his hose points.

  “How do you like the house, Kate? I was fortunate Sir John allowed me to rent it. It was only completed in the summer. Sweet Jesu, but these points are a bother. Can you help me, love?” He advanced backwards.

  “How now! You have not seen me these eight months and I am presented with your arse to kiss first! Is that any way to treat a lady?” she asked, laughing, and bit his buttock through the hose. He jumped away, laughing. “Nay, come here and I will help you. Think you to get in here with me? There is not room for two.”

  The hose were removed along with his chemise, and he proved her wrong. Discovering each other again in the warm water was delicious, and it was not long before they were making slippery love on the carpet in front of the fire.

  “You smell heavenly, Kate,” Richard murmured lying on top of her to keep her warm. “I have longed for you many a cold night up there on the border. I envied some of the men their camp followers, and I suppose I could have warmed my bed with one of them, but I cannot imagine bedding another after you.”

  “You will have to, when you marry,” and once again she could have bitten her tongue. Richard rose immediately and pulled the coverlet from the bed, spreading it over her. Then he wrapped a drying sheet around himself and sat in a chair by the fire. He stared into the flames for a long time. When he spoke, it was measured.

  “I had hoped to spare you this for a few days at least. I wanted to enjoy your company away from my mother’s house, so when I found out Crosby’s house was for rent, we struck a bargain.” He gnawed his lower lip nervously. “I wanted to spend Christmas with you and the children, for it must be the last time for us, Kate.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, and rolled over onto her churning stomach to hear the bad news. She could not bear to look at him, and she did not want him to see her tears.

  “Can I guess? You are to be married? Is it . . . will it be . . . soon?” Her voice trembled. Richard looked with compassion at the rigid form at his feet. She did not dare ask who.

  “’Tis not settled yet, love. I have Edward’s permission at last, but”—his voice acquired a harsh note Kate had not heard before—“my brother George is opposed, and there is much dissension between us. You see, I hope to marry his sister-in-law.”

  “Anne Neville.” Kate’s flat tone dismayed Richard.

  “Aye, Kate. ’Tis Anne and no surprise. You must know that I marry for reasons other than love. ’Tis not a luxury I am afforded in my station in life. I did write to tell you that I was granted some lands and offices once owned by Warwick. George, too, was so endowed and as Isobel’s husband, he believes he should own even more. Edward gave him the Warwick title, which was right in that George is married to the elder daughter. But he would take what is rightfully Anne’s as well, trying to prevent the wealth being shared. He would control Anne. ’Twould be more difficult for him were I Anne’s husband, but ’tis Edward who should give his permission.” He grimaced.

  “You said Edward had given it. Was he opposed?” Kate’s curiosity overcame her inclination to remain silent.

  “Aye, he was fiercely opposed. ’Twas enough George had married Isobel against Edward’s will, but with Warwick a known traitor and Anne married to the Lancaster whelp, she is doubly tainted. But I have been obstinate in my resolve. Anne is the right match for me, and I for her.” His voice had risen to make the point.

  “Why? Why do you want to marry her so much?” Kate’s lip trembled. “Mayhap Edward was right.”

  “I promise you, my dear Kate, it has nothing to do with my heart. You have that, I swear. ’Tis different for me, you know. I am the king’s brother, and as such I must marry where it strengthens his position on the throne. Isobel and Anne are heirs to great wealth and land. When Edward heard my arguments, he saw that I was right.”

  He waited for her to react. She cried for a few minutes, balling a corner of the coverlet to her nose and mouth. He is right, she thought helplessly, he must marry Anne. Richard played with his ring and stared into the fire. Then she gave a loud sniff, wiped her nose and eyes and sat up to face him. Her face was blotched and her eyes pink.

  He leaned towards her. “Kate, say something, I beg of you.”

  “What does Anne Neville think of this?” Kate said tartly. “Did anybody think to ask her? It sounds to me as if she is being tossed about like a tennis ball.”

  He discarded the sheet, pulled on his bedrobe and sat down again, relieved that she was at last understanding his position. “Poor Anne. She has had a dreadful time of it these past six months.” He could not see Kate’s hackles rise. “Let me tell you about it.”

  “ ‘Poor Anne!’ “ Kate exploded, making Richard jump. “Why does everyone keep saying ‘poor’ when they talk of her? She does not sound one whit poor to me!”

  Kate could not hide her jealousy and anger. She tied the counterpane around herself and began to pace the room, trailing the blue and red fabric behind her. Richard watched her.

  “I could not care less about Anne Neville’s plight tonight. She is stealing my love. Tonight I don’t want to think of my sweet
love in the arms of another.”

  But Richard needed to explain. “She is like a sister to me, Kate. Please believe me. Do you think I like to marry where I must and not where I wish? You know how it is—you were married against your will to Thomas Draper. You made the best of it, as must I. Had I never met you, this match would be not be so bad, for unlike many of royal blood, I am at least acquainted with—and like—my bride. Imagine my sister, Meg, leaving her home, her family, and even her native land to marry Charles of Burgundy. Why, she had never even seen the man.”

  Kate stared at a spot somewhere above Richard’s head and forced the tears back. Richard felt sorry for her, but he knew she had to come to terms with reality, however hard-hearted he might seem to her. He began to tell her of his world and how he had tried to shield her from it. The tremendous responsibilities that had been put upon him during the many absences from her—leading the vanguard at Barnet and Tewkes-bury and watching men close to him be slaughtered, condemning great men to death as Constable of England, holding the border against the Scots, and fleeing for his life into exile—had made him hard. “I tried to let you see me only as your lover and father of your children in those precious times we have had together,” he said gently. “But your curiosity and intelligence allowed you further into my world than I ever intended. Know that your counsel has been a comfort to me always, and I shall sorely miss it. But I thanked God every time I left you in your private haven that you and our children were sheltered from my other life. I must beg your pardon for losing myself in a fantasy world you represented.

  “I am no better or worse than the next man fighting to keep a position. I did not ask to be born noble, Kate, but ’tis my duty to bring honor to that position and to my family. Can you see, love? I have sheltered you for my own selfish reasons. You are different from the grasping women I observe all around me at court.” He explained that Edward’s lust had caused the unpopular Woodville marriage, which might eventually jeopardize his crown. He did not add that his boyhood adoration of his eldest brother had diminished over the years in light of Edward’s licentious behavior. “Clarence and I could not afford to follow his lead, Kate, much as I would dearly love to spend the rest of my life with you. I have always been honest with you. From the first, you knew my mind on this. I must ask you now to honor the agreement we made. I cannot expect you to like Anne, but I expect you to accept her as my wife.”