Cicely's Sovereign Secret

by Sandra Heath Wilson

  ‘It will feel very cold, because there is a secret leaf in it that will dull the pain.’

  ‘And what leaf might that be?’ he asked, curious.

  ‘Oh, I dare not tell you, my lord, because it is not in my aunt’s recipe, but is my addition. My aunt would punish me greatly for my impudence if she knew.’

  ‘Really? I find it hard to believe Mistress Kymbe could be such a termagant.’

  Mary paused. ‘Such a what, my lord?’

  He smiled again. ‘Shrew.’

  ‘Oh, well, she can, believe me, but I know this leaf improves the recipe. You are the first one I have used it upon.’

  ‘Oh, deep joy,’ he murmured, catching Cicely’s eyes.

  Mary took the cobwebs, and with great care laid them over the wound, turning their edges over it until they fitted into it as much as possible. Then she dipped a trembling finger in the green salve and applied it gently over the cobweb and then the entire wound. The coldness was soothing. Next, she dripped three thick liquids—purple, yellow and carnation—onto the pad, and explained that the colours mimicked the wound and the bruising around it. They would draw out all ill humours, she assured Jack.

  He winced as she pressed the pad down hard, and worked quickly, bandaging it into place as Tal had done at Knole. Then she slid Jack’s arm into the sling again.

  ‘Use this support as much as you can, my lord, for it will ease your wound. Sleep on your other side, or on your stomach. Or in a chair.’

  ‘I do not need telling that, for I learned very quickly.’ He smiled again.

  ‘I will leave some of the green salve, my lord. Please have someone examine the dressing every day, and exchange it for a new one every other day. When it is changed, more of the salve must be applied.’

  ‘I will.’

  Mary placed her hand upon the pad and whispered something, strange words, melodic and rhyming.

  ‘A spell?’ Cicely asked.

  ‘For the old gods to hear and be gracious to Lord Lincoln.’ She put everything back into the casket and closed it. ‘I will have to tend you again soon, my lord, but no one could have done better than me. Except, perhaps, my aunt, although one day I will be the very best.’

  Jack eyed her in surprise. ‘You have such confidence?’

  ‘I must, for it is a great responsibility to be a wisewoman, as is my aunt. Without confidence, I cannot succeed, and the secret powers will not come to me.’

  Jack stood, and before Mary knew it, he had kissed her on the lips. ‘Thank you, Mary Kymbe,’ he said softly, ‘I am in your debt.’

  Mary gazed at him, her eyes huge. ‘A kiss is all the payment I need,’ she whispered, seized the casket, and fled from the room.

  Cicely had watched. ‘You have not lost your touch, Jack de la Pole; poor Mary will now be more foolish over you than ever. How does your shoulder feel now?’

  ‘Sore, but rather numb too, which is a new development. She may be right about her secret leaf. But enough of Mary Kymbe, because I wish to be in comfort with you.’ He indicated the large raised bed, with its canopy and curtains of dusky blue velvet. ‘To simply have you in my arms is all I require, my love, just that sweet delight. And a kiss or two, perhaps, as I tell you what happened after I was parted from Tal. It is a long story.’

  Chapter Ten

  Jack sat back against one end of the headboard and extended his right arm for Cicely to nestle into the crook.

  ‘What do you know of Knole, sweetheart?’ he asked.

  She told him what Jon and Tal had said, relating in full the conversation she had with Tal on the duchess’s barge.

  ‘So you know all about Roland du Coskäer? In fact, having seen Tal since me, you have told me more than I knew.’

  ‘Is Tal right about him? Can he be used to overturn Henry?’

  ‘I believe so, but I will not tell you what we know. Like Tal, it is not because I do not trust you, but because you need to be utterly innocent if and when you do learn. And once you know what it is, you certainly will not be able to hide the fact from Henry. It is that shocking. Please understand, sweetheart.’

  ‘I do.’

  He squeezed her gently. ‘So I am once again dead, buried, and providing fodder for fine new willow? How like Henry.’

  She frowned. ‘But … someone was buried at Knole!’

  ‘Or some thing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That if Tal saw a body slung over a horse, and Jon saw a burial, the only answer I can provide is the mastiff Tal killed. It would be hard for Tal to know the difference between the body of a man or a great hound at a distance in the dark. I am sure Henry hoped I really was done for, and it suits him to let Yorkists who are in on my survival believe that the tiresome Earl of Lincoln is once again under the sod.’

  ‘What really happened after Tal sent your horse away with you?’ she asked.

  ‘I soon knew that I did not have the strength to stay in the saddle for long at the gallop that was necessary. You would not believe the pain from a mere flesh wound could be so insupportable because of the jolting of a horse. Then I found myself in a small glade that was only half-covered with snow, because of overhanging evergreens. I could hear the chase close behind me, and knew I had perhaps a quarter of a minute to act. I halted the horse, jumped down on snowless ground, and then slapped its rump. It was glad to be off again, for it was terrified of the remaining mastiff. I scattered what was left of my orange oil, and scrambled into concealment just as the chase streamed past in pursuit of my horse. The mastiff faltered momentarily, but the trusty orange oil worked like a charm, and the chase continued. I found the stream Tal had used earlier, and waded against the current, away from the house. My feet were soon frozen, but it is amazing the strength and fortitude that can be found under duress.’

  ‘My poor Jack,’ she whispered, twisting up to draw his lips to hers.

  He smiled. ‘Mm, you are nectar to this poor battered bee.’

  She snuggled down again. ‘Go on.’

  ‘This is not a fairy tale read at bedtime,’ he chided. ‘Well, I kept pressing upstream, away from the house, until the water passed under a bridge beside a tavern, at the rear of which I found an ox-wagon about to leave.’

  ‘At night? Would that not be to invite robbers?’

  ‘Not when there are armed men in attendance. I do not know who they were, but they had been paid well to see the wagon safely to London. I heard them talking. And when I managed to get into the wagon, I soon discovered that it was laden with bales of costly silk—fit for royalty—as well as lace and skeins of fine gold and silver metal threads for embroidery and the like. I made myself a silken mattress, partly unrolled a bale of exquisite pearl-stitched honey silk, and hid beneath it. A truly fitting bed, I thought as I bled slowly into it. Someone will have been furious when it was found.’

  ‘And you were carried safely all the way to London?’

  ‘Almost all the way. When there was an altercation in Southwark, I took the opportunity to leave the wagon and blend into the crowds, wrapping my cloak around myself to hide the bloodstains. I made for the Black Boar inn, where I had been on a number of occasions. It was once the White Boar, but times have changed, have they not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  They were both silent for a moment, remembering Richard, but then Jack continued. ‘The innkeeper sent for a friar to clean and redress my shoulder. I was anonymous, the fellow had no idea who he tended. The removal of Tal’s original dressing caused a lot of fresh bleeding, which took some time to staunch, so I was weakened again and obliged to rest for a few days if I was to be strong enough to get myself here. I sent word to Edgar, who has become my right hand. He trundled me from the inn, hidden in a wagon of empty tuns, only for me to find I had missed Tal by a matter of hours. I might as well have stayed in Southwark.’

  Jack stroked her cheek. ‘Forgive me for telling Tal about Leo, but I believed I would die and wished … well … wanted to be certain that Leo’s e
xistence was known to those who have remained loyal. I know it is not what you wanted, and that I have seemed to betray my word to you, but it had to be done. Please tell me you understand … and forgive.’

  She caught his hand and brought it to her lips. ‘I forgive you, Jack. Of course I do. Although I admit to being incensed at first, because I have such trouble keeping faith with Tal.’

  ‘He is a good man, my love. I would—and have—trusted him with my life. Never doubt him. And he is right about Leo. The boy is Richard’s son, and if Tal’s reasoning concerning a contract between you and Richard is correct, then Leo can be regarded as legitimate. Do you understand? He is Richard’s heir, and the true king. I would not stand in his path to the throne.’

  She looked away stubbornly.

  He was regretful. ‘If I have upset you …’

  She smiled too brightly. ‘I would prefer to be making love with you right now. Or rather, making love to you.’

  ‘In Tal’s bed?’

  She sat up swiftly. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I have commandeered it because it is the finest in the house. No lumpy old mattress for me.’

  She began to rise from the bed, but he took her hand and pulled it down to his crotch. He was famously well-made—as all the ladies at court had known and sighed over—and at this moment he was far from quiescent. ‘When we are in a suitable bed, my lady, I promise you pleasure beyond even your wildest imaginings.’

  ‘That wild? I will have to contain my desires. But I will hold you to your promise, my lord.’ She bent to kiss the exciting mound, and then left the bed.

  ‘You may hold all of me, my lady,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I will have to return to Pasmer’s Place soon. I left no word to Jon that I was even going from the house. Will you definitely leave here?’

  ‘Yes, tonight, probably. I will let you know where I am, and will soon take you to bed with every ounce of passion I have in me. Which is quite considerable, considering I have not lain with you since the Red Lion.’

  ‘I trust your performance will be as bold as your words, sir.’ She smiled, but then remembered Esher. ‘Jack, Jon and I have to go to Esher soon. I am not sure exactly when I will go, but please be aware that if I am not at Pasmer’s Place, that is where I will be. Henry has something planned, and it involves both Lord and Lady Welles. Jon suspects it concerns Roland de Coskäer.’ She looked at him. ‘Jack, am I to inform Jon of your survival?’

  ‘Does he still think he took my life?’

  ‘No. At least, he will not once I tell him what Tal has told me. And I will tell him that much. I can hold my tongue about what you have told me today. I do not need to tell him I have been with you again.’

  ‘You have not quite “been with me”.’ He smiled.

  ‘I will wait for you to rectify that state of affairs.’

  He was serious again. ‘Do not tell Jon about me. The fewer who are aware, the better.’

  ‘But, Jon would not betray—’

  ‘Humour me, sweetheart. It is better not to put him in the position of having even more tasty titbits to hide from the ravening royal mongrel.’

  ‘Henry is more a replete cat, prepared to wait however long it takes for an unwary mouse to tread his way.’ She went back to the bed to kiss his mouth again. ‘Just do not be that mouse, Jack de la Pole, for I love you with all my heart,’ she whispered.

  It was after midnight, and the bedchamber at Pasmer’s Place was lit only by the muted glow of the banked fire, when Jon returned from his duties at the Tower. The bed curtains were open, and Cicely awakened as he entered.

  ‘Jon?’

  ‘Who else might you have been expecting?’ he replied, smiling across at her. His thigh boots and outer clothes had been removed by pages in the great hall, and he was dressed in a scarlet velvet doublet and black hose.

  ‘Jon, there are some things I need to say to you.’ She sat up.

  He had started to unfasten his doublet, but paused. ‘And I am not going to like them, am I?’

  ‘The first one is innocent enough. Do you know of a secret door from Henry’s apartments at Westminster?’

  ‘One could not be in your father’s household, and not know about it.’

  ‘Well, I have told Henry that you mentioned there was another such door at Nottingham.’

  He discarded the doublet and the fine shirt beneath it, and came to sit on the bed, his lean face flushed suddenly as the fire shifted. ‘May I ask why?’

  She explained what had happened. ‘As Henry suspected, I was reminded of going to Richard, but I managed to explain it away by saying you had told me about my father’s women also using the one at Nottingham.’

  ‘I see. Well, I am aware of both doors, and will claim responsibility for your knowledge.’ He studied her face in the fire glow. ‘What else is on your mind?’

  ‘You are acquainted with Sir Humphrey Talbot.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  ‘Ah. I have been waiting for this, because I knew as well as damned that you would disobey me. Yes, Cicely, I am acquainted with him. Quite well, as it happens. We met when we were both in your father’s household. Yes, I recognized him at Westminster Stairs. And yes, there is something involving him that I am not going to tell you. I trust that answers everything?’

  ‘Except why you pretended not to know him.’

  ‘Much as I love you, it is none of your business.’ There was a pause. ‘Did he confirm that he was with Jack at Knole?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jon nodded reluctantly, and got up to remove the rest of his clothes.

  She plucked at the bedding. ‘The secret that you and he share, is it something that shames you both?’

  He slipped into the bed beside her and lay down, pulling her with him. ‘Neither of us feels shame, Cicely. We would both do it again under the same circumstances.’ His hand sought hers, and enclosed it warmly. ‘To turn to a more agreeable topic, I think maybe I can cheer you a little. I had occasion to speak to Mary, and she mentioned how she missed her brother Tom. Now, Henry will never permit you to leave him, but I thought that Mary’s desire to see her family could be used to bring the Kymbes, including Leo, to London on a visit. I could secure a house for them somewhere, temporarily … . Would that please you?’

  ‘You know it would. You are so kind and thoughtful to me, Jon.’ She moved against him, but guiltily. She was concealing Jack’s survival from him, not from choice, but because it was Jack’s wish. It was wrong. Jon deserved so much more. Needing to make amends, she leaned over him for a kiss. ‘I have been waiting for your return, husband, to show my appreciation of all that you are,’ she whispered.

  ‘But what if I am even more than you think?’

  ‘Then you shall have even more appreciation.’

  ‘That is an answer I like, my love, but first, I must exact a promise.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Please, no more interrogation about things you know I will not confide.’

  She saw the earnestness—and anxiety—in his eyes, and nodded. What else could she do? ‘I promise.’

  He pushed her gently onto her back, and then propped himself up on an elbow. ‘Let your lord show his appreciation first,’ he said softly.

  But as he kissed and caressed her, she thought of Jack. Where was he now? Was he thinking of her? Conscience bit into her. She was with Jon now. Jon!

  On the cold January day before leaving for Esher, Cicely went to Greenwich to see Bess, who, like most of the court, would not be joining Henry. It was not that he was being secretive, because everyone knew where he was, just that he excluded many, especially his queen.

  There had been no word from Jack, and Cicely was anxious. Where was he? But if she knew nothing of him, she certainly knew more about his brother, because as she entered the palace, she saw Edmund strolling towards her. He was flaunting himself, and turning the heads of male and female alike.

  He was dressed in red and pale-green parti-colours that alternate
d between his tightly fitted doublet and even tighter hose, and he walked with a lithe motion that swayed his hips almost to the point of effeminacy, but not quite. His face was perfect, oval and symmetric, with full, sensuous lips and skin as flawless as a maid’s. His eyebrows were darker than his wonderful head of pale-chestnut curls, and his eyes were a lighter brown than Jack’s, but—like Jack—he knew how to use them to best effect.

  In fact, Edmund quite obviously knew how to use everything to best effect, Cicely thought, remembering Tal’s remark about folly bells. Members of his own sex would never receive what they might desire of Edmund de la Pole, although he might well lead them on. His fleshly gratification would be with women, as was plain in the seducer’s smile he bestowed on a young lady in a blue satin gown, who blushed prettily but did not dare to stop. Cicely would be very surprised indeed to discover that he directed such smiles at other youths. Or men. Unless, perhaps, it was for some gain.

  He was much closer now, and she saw more detail. Unlike Jack, Edmund’s mannerisms were studied, performed before a looking glass until they were honed razor-sharpness, and the cool calculation in his eyes revealed too much experience and immorality for someone of sixteen. Whatever was on Edmund de la Pole’s surface, the hidden layers beneath were far darker.

  As he passed two gentlemen, who bowed courteously, he responded by placing his slender hands together as if in prayer, and giving a half-bow that flowed like fine wine into a Venetian glass. Those pious hands, and everything else about him, put Cicely in mind of a portrait she had once seen by the artist Rogier van der Weyden.

  Edmund drew almost alongside her, and bowed gallantly, hands still together, expression heavenly. She could have halted, made herself known and gauged more, after all, he was her first cousin, but she merely inclined her head and walked on. He did not know her, especially in her finery today, so could not possibly have realized she had been one of the indifferently garbed woman he had surely seen in Thames Street.

  The queen’s apartments were splendidly furnished, and filled with music. And with card-playing, at which Cicely’s elder sister did not excel, and for which Henry had to dig deep into his purse to fund. He also dug deep for her other great penchant of the moment, the keeping of rare and costly greyhounds, very dark brown in colour. She had a whole kennel of them, and indulged their every need, real or imagined. Henry provided well for his queen’s whims and pleasures. Perhaps it salved his conscience.