This Ravished Rose

by Anne Carsley

  James brought out rare goblets and poured a special wine into them. “The King.” They drank slowly, ceremoniously, then set them down. There was relief that it was done, now must come the proving time. None knew more than James how Richard must justify his actions.

  Katherine said, “When is the coronation to be?”

  “It has been set for July 6. I suppose you will be needing new gowns?”

  They laughed together in the blessed release of tension as Roger said, “Of course she will. Seamstresses must be summoned immediately. I myself need new garments and there is little time.”

  So little time. The words made Katherine shiver for some unknown reason.

  “Make yourself fair, my lady. This is your day as well, You have endured much.” Then before Roger and the servants who had unobtrusively entered, he took her in his arms and kissed her until the flames rose in them both.

  In the waning days of preparation for the coronation which was to be one of the most lavish ever recorded, Katherine had again the feeling that all was not done in the matter of Rykos. He had seemingly left the court soon after the death of Edward and no one had heard from him since. There were no more signs or warnings but the feeling of being watched never left her. There was more to be explained and she was not truly safe from Rykos even yet. So did Katherine think in the small hours of dawn when James had not come to her bed. She forced herself to push such thoughts aside; this should be a time of happiness, a reward for work well done.

  James was polite, even gentle, but remote. Once she said to him, “Gloucester owes you much. If you wish to be free, I am sure that he will help you.”

  He gazed off into the distance for a long minute, then looked down at her, his face a mask. “I must have an heir, Katherine. One who is undisputed. I have come to realize that more and more during this time. Give me one, then we will speak again on this subject. Until your duty is done, spare me.”

  James walked away then and left her fuming. They had lain together several times recently but it had been perfunctory, reaching none of the heights of earlier times. He knew the depth of her passion; she was helpless before it. Katherine wanted him to want her in return. She could only pray that out of all this a child would come.

  James was constantly busy but now so was she. The news from the city continued good; it ever loved a festive occasion. No expense or effort was to be spared to make a brave show. The princes would not attend the coronation, James reported. No need to risk stirring up problems. There seemed to be relief in all quarters that the matter was settled.

  Katherine thought of the years of privation when she was being fitted for gowns, each more lavish than the last, each costing enough to have fed a family for a year. The velvets, ermine, silk, and brocade grew hotter with every fitting. Jewels and hair styles must be matched, coifs selected, shoes prepared. She longed for her coarse old gowns of dark cloth one afternoon when the sweat poured down her back and soaked the ermine collar of the robe she must wear. It was too much. She scattered maids and fitters alike, caught up a loose robe and ran barefoot to pace along the quiet paths of the garden.

  The evening cool had come here already and the scent of roses was heavily redolent in the stillness. A bird call came piercingly sweet as the sun glinted down through the heavy foliage. Katherine sat down, pulled her skirts up and tucked her legs under her. Carefully she began to imitate the bird call and laughed when the startled creature flew off with a squawk.

  “You do not look the great lady you must be on the morrow,” remarked an amused voice almost at her elbow.

  Katherine jumped up with an exclamation and whirled to see James rising from a hidden bench in the flowers. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough to see that you are truly a country maid at heart. I returned to refresh myself from work and was greeted by the seamstresses who are all agog because you ran away without having your robe finished. I suggested that they finish it without you. I fear I horrified them.”

  Katherine laughed with him and was glad to see that the lines of strain were no longer visible. They had returned during the long days of conferences. Now she saw the flicker of his eyes, the almost imperceptible softness of his voice, and knew why he had come.

  “And have you come to roar at me, my husband?”

  “Aye, wench.” He bent toward her and she caught the odor of leather and spices. His brows quirked up and the wind ruffled the wheaten crest of his hair.

  Hunger burned between them.

  Katherine stepped back slightly as his hand touched her shoulder. “Shall we retire to the house?” The familiar reeling of her senses had begun and she felt naked before him.

  “God! Not to that hue and cry. Let us be country man and maid for a little while.” He shuddered at the I bought of returning to all the preparations for tomorrow’s great day.

  Katherine laughed and touched the temple where his pulse hammered. Their bodies melted into each other as his hands moved masterfully over her. They sank down into the soft grass beside the path and James slid the robe back over her shoulders so that her upper body was free. Her breasts were rose tipped and full as he touched his lips to one, feeling it erect and hard in his mouth. Her fingers convulsed in his hair and her tongue thrust in his ear. Then her body opened to his as it both gave and sought.

  Night came down, the moon rose and the flower scents were heavier still as their bodies intertwined in a passion that melted into tenderness. Katherine trembled at the edge of the abyss, drew back, plunged and rose again. James cried aloud as she did, they matched each other and fell back only to mount again.

  A night bird roused them. This time, James wound his fingers in Katherine’s hair, pulled her head back and kissed her neck all the way up to her swollen lips which opened to receive his questing tongue. She put both arms around his bare back and arched her slender body to his. There was a hard driving urgency in their passion now. Katherine felt it tear at her as their frenzy mounted. Her fingers tore at the flesh of his back and he filled her beyond all endurance; it seemed as if they could not get enough of each other. The words James whispered in her ears further inflamed them both and then they seemed to fall forever.

  Katherine woke first in the grayness that comes before dawn and sniffed the freshness of the summer. Watery odors from the Thames mingled with that of the dew-wet roses. She was heavy with passion’s languor as she looked down at James. His dark face was still but the edges of a smile curved the chiseled lips and his hand still held a curl of her hair. In that moment of undiluted happiness, he woke and looked into the brilliant eyes that still held the night’s secrets. She cupped his face in both and bent to kiss him but he turned from her.

  “Restrain yourself, madam. It is almost full light. Has it escaped you that this is coronation day?”

  Katherine felt suddenly ashamed of her breasts as they jutted from her scanty robe. She put a hand to her disarranged hair and pulled some twigs of grass from it. Why this coldness after the night’s ecstasy? “The night’s pleasures were yours also, James.”

  He rose and adjusted his clothes. “What need is there to discuss it? We are wed are we not? Hurry, there is much to do.” He regarded her almost naked body with annoyance.

  She sought to regain her dignity and repressed an almost uncontrollable desire to slap him. “I only meant to bid you good morrow; I hardly see the need for rudeness.”

  James said, “You read too many romances. Beware, lest your brain be addled.”

  Katherine wrapped the belt of her robe around her slender waist and pulled it tight. Why did he always retreat into himself? Whatever James said, the glory of the night was hers to remember. She longed for the day he would hold her tenderly after such a night.

  “I am ready.” Her voice was calm and the frown that had settled on his face lifted slightly. She saw him relax and instinct warned her to press no more but to let him come to her in his own time.

  Later, she sat at her steel mirror and watched th
e maids work on her hair. One had been sent away in tears by Lucy whose fingers were too stiff to arrange hair but who knew exactly how it should be done. Katherine’s lips were slightly puffy from James’s kisses and there were marks on her throat as well, the badge of love. However, ointment had been applied and now they were scarcely visible. Her gown lay on the bed in a froth of green and white velvet edged with silk.

  There was a movement at the door and James entered. He wore a loose golden robe that only slightly dimmed the gold of his hair. The gray eyes were enigmatic as he looked at Katherine. Then he loosed the strings of the pouch he held and poured out a stream of jewels as green as the foliage of the garden where they had lain.

  “For you, Madam, my wife, upon the day of the coronation of our sovereign lord, King Richard III.” Katherine sat very still as he placed the delicate filigree of emeralds and silver about her neck and bosom. “Thank you, my lord.”

  James gave his half smile, “They are a Saracen’s ransom, won in the first crusade by my ancestor and given to his wife. They have been worn ever since by the women of my family.”

  “I am honored.” Their eyes met, then he turned and left as quietly as he had come.

  Hours later, Katherine stood in the galleries with the other noblewomen. The peers were below in the central area of the vaulted cathedral. The great nave and the multi-colored windows were turned to rose gold by the sun and candles. The magnificent robes of the clergy and peers shimmered in unearthly glory as the voices of the choir lifted in the ancient hosannas. The procession seemed to go on forever as the stone arches caught the singing and threw it back.

  Then, she watched in awe as Richard of Gloucester came walking slowly down the great aisle. He wore a gown of purple velvet and the cloth of estate was held over his head. His finely carved face was stem and solemn. The lights picked him out and reflected on his jewels, setting him apart in the great throng.

  Behind him came his Queen, Anne Neville, slender and fair in her sumptuous draperies of rich trailing velvet and linen. They had one frail son and now he was heir to the throne of his father. Katherine knew now what it was to pray for a child. She had heard, too, that there was true love between these two, a thing rare in royal marriages. “So, pray God, will there be one day between Jamie and myself.” The words lifted in her heart.

  Positions were taken now and she looked eagerly for James. He was as colorful as any, the habitual black had been forsaken for gold and silver. His face was grave as befitted the awesome occasion; as much as any man in the kingdom he was the architect of this day. Katherine had heard him call out in his sleep and knew that the essential rightness of his cause troubled him. Only the endless wars, the actual proof of the pre-contract, and the character of Gloucester had won him in the end. She remembered her words that seemed to have lulled him. “He will reign justly. He has sworn it. No man can do more.” She did not doubt those words this day.

  She touched the emeralds at her throat. She felt covered with them and the velvet gown was just as hot as she had known it would be. She was not aware that the sparkle from the gems wreathed her in green fire and imparted a luster to her skin. Many stared, thinking Hunsdale a lucky man.

  The royal couple stood now before the high altar and were anointed. Then they were wrapped in cloth of gold and the crowns of England set in place on their brows. A mighty Te Deum burst forth and sent chills down Katherine’s spine. Now the sword of state was held before the consecrated king and his queen. There was a long moment of silence as the assembled multitude beheld the gravity of this ceremony which united the monarch, God and this land. Katherine felt her heart lift up at the exaltation of this time and she bent her head with the congregation to pray for him. Then the voice of the cardinal rose over them all and even to the heights as he prayed for “Richard, by Grace of God, King of England.”

  Chapter 30

  Summer of Our Peace

  Two weeks after his coronation, King Richard set out on royal tour to show himself to his kingdom, much of which knew little of him and even less of the motives that had led him to take the throne. His trusted counsellors were instructed and messages went from him to them daily as he traveled.

  James was one of the chief of these and he was daily at court, riding out into the city and surrounding environs, attending conferences and studying reports. Katherine saw little of him yet there was a sense of quietness and ease about them both that had never been in their relationship before. He moved to the center of his world, confident and serene.

  Katherine, too, was finding herself in a calm period. Now she had books in abundance and was able to continue her study of languages. She wandered in the streets of London with her maid and one guard, finding it, as ever, endlessly fascinating.

  Lord Carmartin had come to call, bringing with him Sir Anselm. The rush of great events had left them both on the outside for they were deemed Edward’s men and supporters of the Woodville queen or Lady Grey as she was now called. Lord Carmartin was soon to retire to his estates as he told Katherine,

  “It is best, Lady. I am too old for these shifts in government. I but came to wish you well and to tell you that I honor both you and your husband for your courage.”

  Katherine, correctly ascertaining that the old fox wished to have a good word put in her husband’s ear that he might relay to the King, gave him fair words and bade him call when next in the city.

  For his own part, Lord Carmartin wondered how to tell that merchant that he wasted his time, the lady seemed well content. He had been so anxious about her, though, and so willing to embark on a profitable mission for Lord Carmartin. You really could not tell him no.

  Roger and Sir Anselm took an immediate liking to each other, they and Katherine argued and discussed endlessly. Sir Anselm found that time slowed for him these days, Richard could not believe that he had had no influence on Edward to cease the revelry that had surely shortened his days. It was in this time that Katherine prevailed upon him to teach her something of the art he practiced. At first Sir Anselm demurred, saying that this was no learning for a lady.

  “You know that I am not such, my friend. My mind must be occupied, best it be by something useful and interesting, be it fashionable or not.”

  “What will Lord James say?”

  She laughed, “He has found his way, I must find mine.”

  Only half appeased, but unable to tell her no, he taught her of Hippocrates and Galen, something of Arabian medicine from his travels there, anatomy and the humours, as well as his own theories of how spirit and bodily illness might be bound together. Katherine proved to be an excellent pupil and told him that the knowledge would be useful when she again acted as chatelaine in her own castle.

  One afternoon Katherine was riding past a neighborhood she had previously avoided because of its reputation. It was, she saw now, one of the worst. Children with open sores and huge stomachs sat about, the women were apathetic, and broken by childbirth, the men spent much of their time swilling bad ale at the numerous taverns. Refuse littered the streets and evil smells came from the tiny houses that were almost open to the weather. At her order, food was brought, sores tended, baths produced by hauling water. There was resentment, both on the side of her servants and on the side of those to whom the charity was extended. This was not abated even when they saw that the lady did as she herself ordered. To the endless questions Katherine simply said,

  “A vow in answer to a most urgent prayer.”

  This mollified many and the word spread. She tried to teach them as much of the logic of cleanliness as she could. Lancing boils turned her stomach as did some of the suppurating wounds she encountered but Sir Anselm helped her. She was absorbed and the time passed rapidly for she was often so weary that she would have profited from her own tending.

  The talk finally reached the court and it was only by way of amusement that James was enlightened by one Lord Parton, a dandy whose estates were in the south and had supported Richard, hoping for great reward
s which had not yet materialized. He and James walked in the palace corridors one afternoon after refreshing themselves with wine. The matters they had finished dealing with were mundane and rather boring, an endless tangle of legal clauses: the rights of villagers in a long-standing dispute which had continued for years.

  “And like to do so for a hundred more.” Lord Parton was exasperated as he contemplated a return to the musty papers. “They are as tortuous as the mind of the King himself. Does he never rest, then, but must push all who serve him as ceaselessly as himself? All those orders in the most minute detail even though he is on progress! You, Lord James, have not even been home for many days.”

  “No.” James felt his mind visualizing the wording on the contract as though it lay before his eyes. He could see the phrases dipping and tinning on the pages, then the voice beside him, going on and on in such silly matter, distracted him. A name jerked him into reality.

  “I vow, Sir, I wonder that you permit the Lady Katherine to continue with such activities. It will be the talk of London.”

  The effeminate young man was horrified at the next action of the usually reserved northerner. His coat was grasped savagely and the murderous gray eyes looked into his.

  “How is it, sir, that you question the actions of my wife? Look to your tongue!”

  It took an effort to wrench himself free, to stand erect and address the brute.

  “The lady’s honor is not in question, Lord Hunsdale. I meant no slur.”

  James felt a familiar fury swell in his temples. Could none of them be trusted? “Tell me. Quickly!”

  The short tale was soon unfolded. Lord Parton found it far less amusing than he had thought, especially with those fierce eyes boring into him.

  “I meant no disrespect. Holy Writ teaches us to feed and tend the poor.”