The Maiden and the Unicorn

by Isolde Martyn

The Queen uncrossed her arms, spreading her hands. "We simply want to know what Clarence intends to do when he reaches England. Does he plan to be reunited with the usurper Edward?"

  "You could have asked me at any time, madam. There was no need to go to this inconvenience."

  The Queen's eyes glittered. "You broke your parole, your sacred word as a hostage. Where were you going?"

  "I have a lover. I was going to him. As for my duty as your hostage, madam, I made no such promise nor did my half sisters. It was decided without us."

  "As with all hostages since the dawn of time. If you wish to set eyes on either of those young women again, you had better consider your answers now most carefully."

  "If truth will buy me liberty then, no, I do not believe the Duke wishes to be reconciled with his brothers. He has never spoken of it."

  The Queen scowled. With a sudden movement, her hand flashed out to grab a fistful of Margery's hair and violently yanked her head back.

  "You scream now with such little pain, you lying whore! But we have the means of teasing the truth out of perjurers. What shall it be? A brand upon your neck or breast? A knotted cord about your brows?"

  "Madam, I have done you no ill. Dear Jesu, if you harm me, my father shall hear of it."

  "Only if you live to tell the tale." The Queen let go with a wicked thrust that jerked her prisoner's head forward. Margery would have tumbled off the stool had the chain not cruelly held her.

  Her captor bent down, her face coming so intimately close to Margery's that had the Queen's spittle been venom, she would have been blinded. "The Countess will not weep one tear to hear of your passing, will she? And the little upstart Duchess will be glad to have her drunken husband to herself again. As for my future daughter-in-law, who helped you leave, she thinks you safe on the road to England. I tell you this, if Anne does not obey me, a subtle poison will soon rid us of her. I will have her life if your father does not take England for me. I will have all of them!"

  This was the most deadly of enemies, Margery began to realize. Better the spider King than this unstable woman, cankered with hatred.

  "Your grace, I beg to know in what way I have offended you?"

  The Queen straightened. "By living, you Neville by-blow! Now answer! You carried secret letters to the Duke?"

  "It was the condition upon which I was allowed to rejoin my father. I carried letters to him as well."

  "Harken, Margery Neville, I want evidence that Clarence is a traitor to your father. My friends want back the lands that rightfully belong to them. I need to know what he has said to you or given you. Any message, token?"

  "Madam, I know naught that would be of use to you. I have nothing. No doubt you have had my possessions searched."

  "Yes, and those of your horned husband. Another matter, why did Huddleston not publicly take his belt to you? Why did he acquiesce in your adultery?"

  Jesu, why did he?

  "Because I was to spy for the King of France. Because I was to leave France in disgrace and become the usurper's mistress again. Pray ask his majesty yourself, madam." At least it is partly true. Dear Christ, make her believe me, prayed Margery. Help me look her straight in the eyes like a clever peddler. I have to sell her lies.

  "How plausible. But I need hard evidence, girl. My agents have been watching you since Calais. We know that you were sent to seduce Clarence. Cut her gown!"

  Margery's eyes went wide with horror.

  The burly gaoler came around to the front of her, grabbed the neck of the simple gown, slicing it open to her waist with the point of his knife. The other man behind her wrenched the fabric over her shoulders exposing her breasts and half her belly. To a woman of her upbringing, such nakedness was a torment in itself. She swallowed painfully. Were they going to brand her or squeeze her flesh with burning pincers?

  "Belle," hissed the gaoler. Margery shook her hair forward wishing it was long enough to hide her shame, but the other wretch tidied it back with callused fingers that lingered on her neck.

  "You can touch her," encouraged the Queen in his own tongue. "Go on, she's a harlot." Then she changed to English. "Perhaps our guest will find the rough a refreshing change from Clarence's perfumed tumbling."

  The man hesitated, then he moved a fumbling, tentative hand down her throat. Margery shuddered at the dirty nails and huge fingers. The fetid breath grew faster upon her cheek.

  "You are enjoying it, are you not, Neville cherrylips? Touch her some more, fellows. You! Run your fingers along her lips." The gaoler in front of her put his huge fingers to her mouth. Margery felt bile rise to her throat. She folded her lips tightly and tried to think of anything else.

  The Queen laughed and said in English, "You want more? If you do not tell me what I need to hear, I am going to give you to these wretches as a plaything until you beg for mercy."

  "By God, madam, you disgrace womanhood!"

  The Queen slammed her hand across Margery's cheek, her ring leaving a streak of beading blood.

  "You fool, I have waited too long for this day to let you or your drunken lover get in my path. I shall win this war and I shall use any means to do so. I want evidence to prove to your father that Clarence will betray him."

  "Do you want the truth, madam, or merely what you want to hear? As God is my witness, Clarence hates his brother."

  "That is not good enough! Suckle these fellows, King's whore," snarled the Queen. "You will never have such sweet lovers. Enjoy her, you curs, feast! The King of England has tasted where you may suck."

  The second gaoler stirred behind Margery. His hands scraped down her shoulders and groped her breasts. The large gaoler was salivating as his stare fed on her. She closed her eyes and tried not to feel, not to think. She wanted to retch. Her eyes flew open as a mouth fastened around the nipple of her right breast, its tongue frenzied. Margery shrieked and squirmed, shuddering back against the moving chain only to find herself held by the second man.

  "Desist! Stand back again. You see, Warwick's daughter, there will be no lash marks. Your word against mine if I let you live. But maybe you would prefer a whipping? Or a taste of the Duke of Exeter's daughter? I am told that is a cunning invention by one of your usurper's minions to drag information out of traitors. Is that not true, fellow? So, shall we rack her?" She turned to the older of the men.

  Margery saw his skin had dulled to a dark red. The dark centers of his eyes had dilated and his leather codpiece was bulging as he turned hungry eyes to the Queen. "Majesté, give her to me. She will sing sweetly afterward."

  "They want you badly. Tell me where you have hidden Clarence's reply!"

  "I—I have nothing, ma reine. I merely warmed his grace's bed and gave him comfort."

  The Queen laughed. "Kiss her mouth," she snarled at the large gaoler.

  He bent to comply and Margery screamed. She had not believed she could make such a sound before that awful mouth came down on her and the lascivious tongue flickered to infiltrate her mouth.

  When he finally let her breathe, she spat. "I shall puke all over your skirts in a moment, madam. Will that be sufficient truth for you?"

  "You wish the gaolers to ravish you till they are slaked?"

  The wretch behind her grabbed each of her nipples, tweaking them painfully, and was moving himself against the back of her skirt. The chain swung. Margery closed her eyes. She did not know how much more she could bear. The thought of those vile bodies insinuating their pricks between her thighs made her nauseous.

  "Ah, you wasted my time. What care I for the truth so long as I have a confession out of you and you sign it. Set down that the prisoner says she was sent to make promises to Clarence and that he has sworn to her that he will betray her father." She rounded on the scribe. "Write, you fool! Anyone would think you have never seen a woman's dugs before."

  But as the man refreshed the nib with ink, there was the sound of distant arguing and a voice rising above them indignantly. Someone was running along the passageway with armed foo
tsteps in pursuit.

  Frantic hands beat upon the door, startling them all. "Ma mere!"

  Margery's eyes snapped open. The Queen froze. Recovering in an instant, she muttered to the sergeant. He opened the door narrowly but Prince Edouard thrust him roughly aside, storming into the room like a young playful hound let out for exercise—a fair archangel entering Hell. Soldiers pushed in behind him and another man in riding cloak and boots followed behind, the liripipe of his hat still wound about his throat.

  "Your grace," Margery pleaded.

  Prince Edouard's eyes narrowed in horror as he took in not only who she was but that she was bound, her hair unkempt, and her gown in shreds around her ribs. He blanched as if his whole being squirmed with embarrassment at his mother's unexplained presence. For a moment he could not take his eyes from Margery's nakedness. Then he turned upon his parent as if he had caught her in bed with a lover.

  "What in the name of Christ is going on here?"

  The Queen seemed to swallow uncomfortably but she answered brazenly enough. "This baseborn harlot has information that could cost me England."

  "But… this is Warwick's daughter, madam. She is a hostage left here in good faith…" His jaw stayed open. He turned an appalled face to the man behind him.

  The other stepped forward, transferring his riding crop to his left hand. His gloved hand unwound the black cloth that scarfed his neck so that he might remove his hat.

  Margery's frantic gaze looked straight into her husband's icy face. She gave a moan of shame.

  Richard's mouth was a thin cold line. The surprise had already passed. He had had time to assess the situation. The cogs and wheels were turning. He raised an eyebrow in contemptuous rejection of Margery and the entire room before he bestowed his attention upon the Queen.

  Margaret d'Anjou's face tightened defensively. "Master Huddleston, there has been much mischief in your absence. We thought to interrogate your wife before handing her over to the Bishop to be punished for her adultery."

  "Adultery, madam?" Huddleston drew off his gloves with seeming unconcern.

  "With the Duke of Clarence. She lay with him to make him turn traitor and—"

  "But, madam, I do recall the Duke left scarce after Master Hudd—" The Prince faltered as his mother thrust up her hand to silence him.

  "Before! There are witnesses."

  "She wants to behead Clarence!" exclaimed Margery, struggling to rise, but the gaoler held her down.

  The Queen's lip curled in disgust. "This woman is poison within this household. A used whore sent by the usurper Edward to win his brother back. We have to be certain of Clarence's intent before we return to England and, as surely as the sun rises, this creature knows."

  Richard's gaze held the Queen's while his long fingers swiftly unfastened the loops at the neck of his doublet.

  "I think you will find, madam, that you have no more cause for concern. The allegation against Clarence will bear no fruit and…" He exchanged a meaningful look with the Prince. "In short, I have such news that will bring you so much joy that this unfaithful wife of mine will be of no matter to you."

  "Gracious lady"—he dropped with reverence on one knee before the Queen's skirts and drew a folded letter from his breast—"my lords of Warwick and Clarence rejoice to inform you that England is yours."

  CHAPTER 27

  Margery squeezed her eyelids shut, flung back her head, and let out her breath slowly. When she opened her eyes again, it was to inwardly loathe the exultation that was slowly manifesting itself in the Queen's embittered face.

  "Can this be true?" The nine years of waiting, the long exile unbelievably over? Little wonder the Queen could not halt the incredulity mixed with fervent longing in her voice.

  The Prince laughed. "Maman, it is true. Read the letter. Two of the English heralds are in the grande salle waiting for you."

  Margaret searched her only child's face, then with a shriek of triumph she flung her arms around him.

  "Edouard, Edouard, at last." Drawing back from his embrace, she crossed herself, "Oh, God. I thank you! I thank you!" Tears sparkled behind her eyes. She turned to the kneeling messenger to drift her fingertips caressingly down Richard Huddleston's shadowy cheek.

  "You shall be rewarded. But what of the usurper?"

  Huddleston's heartless glance flickered sideways at Margery, chilling her to her soul. "Not heard of. He has disappeared in the north and it is believed he may be prisoner or dead. My lord Montague's messenger had not arrived when I left London but my lord of Warwick wished you to know our tidings with all speed and commanded me to leave forthwith. There is also a letter from my lord of Pembroke in his own hand confirming this."

  "Wondrous, wondrous news!" The Queen crossed her arms across her chest, embracing herself with delight. "I cannot believe it. Does my cousin of France know?"

  "His majesty has ordered three days of thanksgiving. We left him in Tours."

  "Excellent, excellent. So my son, we must not keep the heralds waiting. Master Huddleston, to your feet. You must tell me everything as we go. No messenger ever brought me such welcome news."

  Richard rose stiffly. "Madam," he replied wearily, rising. "I have been traveling these four days. Give me leave tonight. As for my wife, I will pursue this matter in my own way."

  "Oh, no," countered the Queen blithely. "You must celebrate with us. A stoop of wine and good food will put new heart into you. My own servants shall prepare a bath. Yes, indeed. As for your wife, she is not good enough for you and shall remain my prisoner. Now England is mine again, you may set her aside and I shall find you an heiress. Adulterous wives should be handed over to the church for chastisement. Think well on it, sirrah."

  Huddleston bowed over her proffered hand. "I shall wait on your grace as soon as I may. Have I your permission to speak with her?"

  The Queen swept to the door and turned. "If you must." Her gaze fixed upon the guard. "Bestow her in a cell with a window and see that she is fed within the hour. She is not to be harmed for now."

  The gaoler closest to Margery had understood nothing and slid a hand around her throat.

  "Out!" snarled Huddleston, dealing the wretch such a staggering blow on the side of the face that he nearly fell upon the brazier. "Out before I turn you into a eunuch. And you, cut the bitch loose!" There was a tired jagged edge to his voice that Margery had never heard before but his fury gave her hope.

  She searched his face, her lips trembling, seeking a glimmer of compassion as the soldier freed her from her bonds and hauled her roughly up.

  Richard's eyes swept witheringly over her nakedness. "Well," he drawled in French. "You are even more of a fool than I took you for. It seems I shall be well rid of you." He swung on his heel and flung the door wide, nodding at the guard.

  The man grabbed her shoulder and thrust her forward and the other gaoler laughed maliciously. Margery's stomach rebelled at last. She began to retch.

  Her husband turned his face toward her at the sound, his eyes uncaring. He made a gesture for the soldier to stand back. When she was done, she leaned her shoulder against the wall gasping and brushed the saliva off her chin, sending him a look of poisonous hate. He waited irritably, tapping his crop against the boot leather, then he swung his cloak from his shoulders and thrust it at her. "Cover yourself!" he snarled.

  His spurred boots echoed malevolently behind her as she was hauled up the tower stairs and thrust into a narrow chamber lit by a small upper grating.

  Richard Huddleston was going to do nothing to free her.

  Richard awoke feeling saddlesore and guilty that he had not been able to battle against the fatigue of four days' hard riding, especially knowing that his disobedient Margery had spent another night locked up, cursing him. Someone's servants, probably my lord of Concressault's, had heaved him onto a vacant palliase in a small circular chamber sometime before midnight. They had considerately removed his spurs and dumped his saddlebag beside the bed.

  The latter was movi
ng like a woman's belly heavy with child. Richard remembered why, groaned, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. One of his possessions had chewed a hole out through the bag's side, made a puddle by the wall, and was gnawing the leather strap. With an oath, Richard hauled the bag up beside him and fumbled through its contents with a swift prayer to the saints who represented the inebriated. Well, no, not the inebriated—it had been fatigue that had sent him to sleep in the middle of the Queen's peroration on her bloody plan for disposing of the person of the usurper Edward if no one else had already beheaded him.

  Richard drew out the second sleepier puppy and set it down. It groggily wagged its tail at him and squatted immediately. They were to be his farewell gesture to the King of France. Even if they were not deerhounds, mayhap Louis, who appreciated such humor, might be less zealous in revenge when he learned that Richard had abducted Margery.

  The rest of his hastily gathered possessions were miraculously intact. A tame apothecary in Southwark had sold him not only sufficient sleeping powder to flatten the puppies for the journey but enough to give the entire garrison of Amboise respite from guard duties. With a groan, Richard stiffly forced his much-traveled body upright, heaved the saddlebag over his shoulder, scooped the puppies up, and headed for the kennels.

  From there, it was easy to slip into the town and materialize at the Levallois house in time to break his fast. He found only the merchant being waited on at the board. Adèle and Katherine were with Jacques's widowed cousin in Orleans.

  "Merde!" exclaimed his surprised host. "So it was you who rode in after couvre-feu last night."

  "Complete with festive ribbons and a surfeit of whistles. They will be celebrating all day up at the chateau."

  "Lord Warwicque has taken Angleterre already?" Jacques Levallois blinked at Richard in amazement.

  Richard rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded. "Aye, like you, I thought it would be a long and bloody campaign."

  "And the gorgeous Edward?"

  "Fled like a servant who has feasted in his master's absence. They may have 'headed him by now. You know why I am here."