This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  “Hold, sir!” It was the voice of the King of England, the voice that those about easy going Edward seldom heard, the famed Plantagenet rage, and it was raised that all the court might hear. “Retire you shall. From my court and from my city. Take this woman and go, now. Now, do you hear? I will not look upon treachery again. You have allied yourself with it. You have heard my orders! Go!”

  James bent his knee to the Queen, inclined his head to Edward, jerked Katherine upright and moved back. Katherine was calm now but anger was in her whole body. She swept one final curtsey before them all, then she and James moved from the presence of the angry King, the hovering courtiers, and into the cold hall of the palace. A litter was swiftly summoned and they sat in silence until the quiet of their house was reached.

  James dismissed the hovering servants, then poured a goblet of brandy for himself and Katherine. She drank, shivered and drank again. It had to be faced.

  “I disgraced you before the court and now we are exiles. You had best know, I am not sorry and would do it again.”

  James said, “Not and keep your head. One does not insult the King with impunity. We must hasten our departure for the North.”

  Katherine watched him, the long body moving with grace, the mobile mouth curving into a grin. “You protected me in spite of all things. James, I am grateful. Surely he will not blame you for long?” The softness in her voice made his own harden. “You are a fool but you bear my name and are the means to an end. I thought you understood that.” “Believe me, I do.” Her defenses were rising again. James laughed then, the free sound of it moving around the silent room. “Edward’s rages are generally quickly done, his anger spent in most cases. He has held this grudge long against your father, has he not?”

  “Nigh five years.”

  “And you have no idea what happened?”

  Katherine shook her head. She was unutterably weary, her legs shook under her and the lacings of her gown were too tight.”

  “Well, you had best forget the past. There is no time for it in the North. I am glad to be done with courts and intrigue.”

  Katherine’s heavy lids lifted. What was it? Then something flooded back and she remembered the hungry eyes of Alexis Rykos as he stood by the dais, close, so very close, to where Queen Elizabeth sat. Remembered, too, the watchful pose as the Queen missed nothing. And he had been smiling.

  Suddenly Katherine was terrified as she had not been before the King of England himself. She had always known that Alexis Rykos represented the power of evil, but she had never really voiced the thought to herself. And he was a power at court. She thought of the tales told of Queen Elizabeth, that moon fair woman, and of Edward the King, whose very character seemed to have changed in the past years from all that she had heard and then had seen this night.

  James was looking moodily into his cup, his thoughts far away. Katherine wanted to tell him how grateful she was for his support. If he had wanted to repudiate her, tonight would have been the ideal time. Instead, for her sake he had dared the wrath of Edward. Katherine smiled for she could not be less than honest with herself. James wanted to return to the North that he, in common with Gloucester whom he served, loved. What better way to insure that he not be summoned again?

  The fire crackled as a log fell. A gust of chilly wind lifted the tapestries on the far wall but here all was warmth. The brandy stirred Katherine’s senses and lifted her hopes. She would speak to James about Alexis, share her fears with him, and ask his counsel. Perhaps James was right. The vexed question of her father would fade with time and the creation of her own life. It might be best to let old mysteries be. In time their son would come to court to claim his father’s position; there must be no smirch on the name of Hunsdale. Her spirits lifted and she turned to James.

  “My husband, I must tell you . . .” She stopped in midsentence for he was not listening. His eyes were fixed on her swell of bosom and his breathing came heavily.

  “I have had enough of talk.” His words were faintly slurred and Katherine realized that he had been drinking heavily of the fine brandy. He rose and came toward her as she moved aside to avoid the reaching hand.

  “No, please.” Once she would have welcomed his caresses eagerly but this night all she wanted was comfort and tenderness. James did not appear to be in the mood to provide either.

  He caught her shoulders and pulled her up to him. His eyes shone cruelly down into hers. She forced herself to stand quietly without moving.

  “You forget, Madam. We have said that you are breeding. And so you shall be.” His anger flared out at this woman who had trapped him. “You dare to say no to me!”

  He pushed her down gruffly. Every movement seemed calculated to humiliate her. She lay rigid, hating him and determined not to let her pride break. He began to tease her breasts with his mouth, as if he understood her resolve not to move and would enjoy taunting her until she could not hold back. His lips were very warm, he moved slowly. She looked down at his head on her breast and suddenly could not help thinking of a suckling infant. For all his cruel bravado, she sensed how young and hurt he was inside. Then he looked up and saw the odd tenderness in her eyes.

  “How ... ?” he murmured.

  “Oh, Jamie,” she sighed and tears began to roll soundlessly down her cheeks. He entered her then and began to thrust and moan as if his soul were being torn out of him. She didn’t know who she was more afraid for—herself or him.

  Then it was done and he staggered uncertainly to the brandy. Katherine pushed her head into the rushes and wept as she lay in the remnants of the fair green gown.

  “Drink this. I have not hurt you.” He knelt beside her and held out the tankard. “Foolish woman.”

  He spoke gruffly but the gray eyes were uncertain. Katherine mopped her face as any child might and took the brandy from him. “Thank you.” She swallowed the liquid fire at one gulp and tried to smile bravely. It wobbled and James’s face twisted.

  “Kate, Kate, to what pass have we come, you and I?”

  She had not heard him speak so before and longing for him twisted in her vitals. He met her gaze and suddenly pulled her into his arms. His hands were hard on her body again, but this time she did not resist or draw back. She yielded her slim, pliant body to his willingly and when the stalk of his manhood entered her, rose with its thrusts. His mouth found hers again and their tongues wound together in molten hunger. His hands made little circles of flame on her stomach as he brought her to the very edge of release in the fury of love that he ever had the power to produce in her.

  They lay together on the rushes, joined by the long, slow thrusts which seemed to reach with every stroke into the very depths of her. His tongue moved in and out of her mouth, his breath fanned her hair and their lips clung. Her body burned and was restored by his. Their arms twined together and their bodies drank of each other. Time faded for Katherine, she was all body, all urging and response.

  Then he lay exhausted for the moment and Katherine bent over him, hands stirring him to life once more. She lavished long slow kisses on his stomach and face, breathed gently in his ears and moved her breasts softly across his reaching fingers.

  “Gods, I can bear no more!” James looked up at her fair face, marked by eagerness as his own was. “Now, now.”

  “Aye, Jamie.” said Katherine, feeling the throbbing through every fiber of her body.

  They moaned and arched as they tossed together in the delayed explosion of the moment. Their bodies were glistening with sweat, their voices incoherent as the air stood still around them, then seemed to reverberate with the very power of their union. They lay entwined, shaking and satiated, at peace for this rare moment.

  His voice came in the darkness. “You will bear my child, my son, I have vowed it. My seed will take root in you.”

  Katherine barely heard him through her own exhaustion. Her weariness was total and all she wanted was sleep. She fumbled vaguely for the coverlet, feeling chilled now that the sweat was evapora
ting from her flesh.

  “Aye, my husband. It will be a son.”

  Later, Katherine stared into the darkness. He had departed for his own bedroom, duty and pleasure one. She was alone, as alone as though she lay virgin in her bed.

  Chapter 22

  Terror's Face

  In the very early hours of the next morning Katherine awoke from a nightmare in which Alexis Rykos pursued her through a succession of corridors, appearing now behind her and now in front, laughing a mad laugh. Limp from this as well as the evening’s ordeal, she lay sleepless in the bed until the maids began to stir.

  It took no imagination to realize that they all knew what had happened. A pall seemed to lie over the household, no noises lifted as were customary, no chatter or sounds of cooking. Katherine got up, tossed a gown over her head and went to sit beside the fire. The door opened and Lucy looked in. Her face was drawn and worried.

  “Mistress Katherine, we had hoped you would sleep late.”

  Katherine lifted a hand that seemed heavy. “How could I? Has the packing begun again?”

  “It has. Lord James has sent word that he has affairs of business to attend and that he will be absent for a day or two. You leave, he has said, within three days time.”

  Lucy’s eyes flooded with tears. “Mistress, when will you come again to London? The anger of the King is fierce, it is said.”

  Katherine wanted to cry herself. The sympathy brought prickles to her own eyes but she stood up and said, “My lord and I welcome a sojourn in the North. I shall pray that the anger of the King abate soon.”

  Lucy was unconvinced but what was to be done? She curtsied and left the room.

  For the remainder of that day Katherine paced about, unable to either rest or to put her belongings in order. A picture of her life as it would probably be forever hung before her. Children, certainly, possibly comfort there, but the aloofness of her husband would leave her heart empty. Some camaraderie there had been between them but this had faded so rapidly that it might not have been. Aloud she said to the cold room, “He no longer hates me, but tolerates me only, hoping to find me useful. That is even worse.”

  She slept little that night and woke the next day to the sound of thunder and a heavy cold rain that rose in intensity as the hours struggled by. The gardens near the windows were sodden and battered. Trees bent before the wind and the river gleamed murkily through them. Clouds hung low enough to touch. Katherine felt despair come over her and there seemed to be no antidote for she had no interest. Every effort she made to sew, read, or idly strum the lute failed. She could not bear the thought of other people, their speculation and their laughter.

  The hesitant voice of one of the maidservants roused her from her contemplations. “My lady, there is a message for you. A packet, also.”

  More orders from James, more demands. Let it keep. Katherine did not turn to look but said, “Put it down and go.”

  “But...”

  “Do as I say!” The slam of the door was eloquent of the alacrity with which she was obeyed and Katherine felt a momentary pang. She had not meant to frighten the girl but encroachment on her mood today was more than she could bear.

  It was some time before she turned back to reality as exemplified by the parchment sealed with red wax and the small bundle well wrapped in oiled silk which lay on the stool near the door. Curious, Katherine picked up the parchment and unfolded it. There were only a few lines.

  “Katherine, the King has ordained that I remain here at court since he feels unwell much of the time now. You will understand that I think of you and wish you well. Not long ago I was in Master Caxton’s shop and saw this book which he assured me was one of a kind, printed especially for a great gentleman at the request of his friend. Accept it in that spirit. God be with you.”

  It bore Sir Anselm’s characteristic scrawl. Hurriedly she opened the packet which disclosed a small book, bound in leather. On the front was the griffin device of her house, a creature part eagle, part lion over a lifted sword. Surrounding this was the white rose and three suns device of King Edward. The book was the poems of the Roman, Catullus, in Latin. Inside the first page read, “For my great friend, Antony.” The signature was that of the King of England.

  Katherine had known and read the book while they lived on the moors in the first months. In her childhood Antony had mentioned it several times for such a book was rare beyond price and the friendship a rarer thing still. It had disappeared and she had not asked after it, knowing the bitter price Antony had paid for shelter and food for them both. Now she held it in both hands and read several of the bittersweet lines, hearing once again the warm resonant voice of her father as he spoke them before the fire.

  Warmth flooded over Katherine. No longer did she feel bereft and alone. Sir Anselm’s understanding was balm, she knew that he was forbidden to wish her farewell in person; this was his parting gift and dearer so.

  She jumped up and ran to the window. The rain appeared to be slowing down, but whether it did or not, she knew that she could not sit numbly in these rooms waiting for her fate. She must go out into the streets of the city which would be alive with movement even on such a day. It would be long, if ever, before she saw such activity again. Unwittingly a sharp pang came over her as she thought of how it might be if matters were well between herself and James. Visits to London for the court activities, refurbishment of the Thames side house, friendship and laughter. She shut her mind to such thoughts and began to rummage for the boy’s clothes that had stood her in good stead before. After telling the maid that she was not to be disturbed on any pretext, she went from her room by another way and hurried down the long drive toward the mucky, rain-driven streets of London.

  The watcher near the gates had to peer long and hard before it finally came to him that the slight figure bent against the wind was indeed the Lady Katherine for whom he had been instructed to watch. He set out to follow her, keeping an unobstrusive distance away. A message was sent by one of the many urchins hovering about. Soon the quarry would be flushed.

  Katherine drifted from narrow, filthy streets where the houses touched to broad avenues where rich merchants and lords lived. She was comforted somehow by the noise and confusion, the cheerful chaffering of the peddlers, the brawling fishmongers and housewives seeking bargains, procession alive with color even on a day such as this, messengers clattering by and the endless calls to “Buy,” “Buy”! She might have been any loitering prentice or even one of the many homeless who drifted with the day’s light.

  It grew colder but the rain continued. Katherine was oblivious at first and for a long time thereafter as she stored up memories against the long still days in the North. Finally she became conscious of the cold as well as of a raging hunger and thirst. Nearby she saw a sign, “The Restless Cat,” signifying a small alehouse. Warmth billowed from the door as she opened it. There were few customers and the fat host drowsed before the leaping fire. He served the requested ale and bread hastily, then returned to his dreams.

  Over her meal Katherine began to muse. Her volatile spirits were lifting again. Adaptable she knew herself to be. What marriage was ever made for love? Very few. She knew that Antony had dearly loved her mother, the golden Matilda, but she had died in childbirth after less than a year of marriage. Antony had not spoken of her again. A woman married or entered a nunnery. She should be thankful that she had been given, or had taken, a choice and that she was married to the man she loved. Who knew what the future might hold?

  She was unaware of the presence near her as she sat wrapped in her thoughts. The man who had followed her had been replaced by another, a short wiry one with sharp eyes and a furtive manner. His livery was dark and plain. He made casual conversation with the host, ending,

  “I vow, the dark is coming early. Will this rain never cease? There, now, did you see yon gallant, spattered as he is?”

  The harsh, guttural voice made Katherine start. She saw that the light was indeed fading rapidly, t
hat of it which was not already shut out by the overhanging roofs. Hurriedly she gathered up her wet cloak, spoke brief words of thanks to the incurious host, and went out to look for a litter which might be hired although this was certainly not a section of the city where such might be found. She took a muddy turn and then another which led her into a street even darker than the one she had left. Moreover, all the doors along it were shuttered and bolted. An evil stench rose from the sides of the street where chamber pots had been dumped and even the rain could not wash clean. Katherine turned to retrace her steps and came up against the man from the tavern who blocked her way. She started around him but he stepped in front of her even as his companion moved into view. He pulled the cap from her head with a swift gesture and took her arm. “Allow me to offer you a litter, Madam.”

  Katherine jerked back, noting as she did so that the litter stood waiting, plain and black with two hooded carriers. It almost blended in with the dirty walls and the increasing rain.

  “Allow me to pass or it will be the worse for you.” She made as if to push past him but he seized both her elbows with hard fingers. She struggled for a second, then opened her mouth to scream.

  Instantly his gloved hand was over her mouth and a short dagger glittered in the faint light. “Lady Katherine, my master awaits you. I warn you, I can injure you most painfully here in these streets and none will come to your aid. The choice is yours. I would suggest silence.”

  Katherine stared at him wordlessly, knowing that she was trapped by her own folly. No simple robbery this, the hand of Alexis Rykos had reached out to touch her once more. The man’s little eyes watched in satisfaction as she stood still. He took his hand from her mouth and motioned to the litter which was instantly alongside. She climbed in as he ordered and shivered at the warning, “One outcry and you will not live to make another.”

  Katherine believed him, and she obeyed for the moment. Perhaps Alexis had ransom in mind or some scheme to soothe his wounded vanity. James would risk no further scandal, she knew, but he would probably lock her up in a nunnery for good. She would be strong with her captor when she saw him face to face; he would see no fear in her.