Cicely was uneasy. Unwell? And Bess wished to be where the wine was in readiness? She did not know what to do.
‘Henry will not know it has not been tasted,’ Bess said airily, and then looked past Cicely. ‘Is that not Annie over there? I thought you said she had been forbidden to attend.’
Cicely turned swiftly, but saw no sign of Annie. She scanned the gathering, and then turned back in puzzlement, just in time to see a quick movement of Bess’s right hand withdrawing into the folds her gown. A shock jolted through Cicely as a quick glance at the wine revealed a white powder sinking, dissolving and then disappearing. Bess had put something in Henry’s wine. Right here, in front of the entire hall!
Bess was confident of being undetected. ‘Cissy? Are you afraid I will spoil tonight? I promise I will behave.’
Cicely was in a quandary. She could hardly accuse the Queen of England of trying to poison the king, but that was surely what was happening.
At that moment the signal was given to adjourn to the decorated, white-clothed trestle tables arranged around three sides of the hall. Jon and Henry approached, and escorted their ladies to the dais, where Jon sat at Bess’s side, and Cicely next to Henry. She was in turmoil as the wine was brought, and Henry’s golden goblet was filled.
‘Your Majesty—!’ The words blurted, and she did not know what else to say, just that she had his attention.
The formality was unnecessary when they were seated together, and he looked quickly. ‘What is it, cariad?’
‘May I taste your wine, Your Majesty?’ she asked in a voice loud enough for Bess to hear. Bess’s face changed, and Jon glanced at his wife, aware that something was wrong.
Henry hesitated, but handed her the goblet, which she immediately contrived to drop. She leapt to her feet in apparent confusion. ‘Forgive me! Oh, forgive me!’
‘It is of no consequence, my lady,’ Henry responded guardedly. He indicated the goblet should be replenished, but Bess rose from her seat so abruptly—and clumsily—that she knocked the entire jug out of the servant’s hands.
Henry had to move out of the way as the wine splashed everywhere, and in those seconds Cicely leaned close enough to whisper. ‘Harri, the food is safe, but please drink only what you see me drink.’ She used his Welsh name to be make certain he paid full attention.
He did, and by the curve of his lips and warmth in his eyes, she knew that for those moments she had his complete trust.
The disturbance over, the dinner proceeded magnificently. Henry put himself out to be entertaining and charming, and Jon was genial as well. Bess was quiet, and clearly angry, glancing frequently at Cicely in a way that indicated the sisters’ next private meeting promised to be prickly.
It was after dinner, when the entertainment was at its height, that Cicely noticed Roland in the gathering. Jon had relented at the last moment, and permitted the boy to attend. He was seated at the far end of the hall, between the disagreeable Thomas Howard and a third squire who had appeared in Henry’s household. Good-looking, with long, wavy golden hair, Cicely had noticed that he was wont to bestow soft glances upon Mary Kymbe. Enquiries would be made to learn who he was. At first, she wondered if he too figured in Annie’s pantheon, but it had soon become clear that he was solely concerned with Mary, who returned the interest.
Annie had not been granted a reprieve. Cicely, more than many, knew the consequences of surrendering to desire. But she had loved Richard completely, without ambition, and his love had been true. Annie acted solely out of ambition, and the likes of Roland de Vielleville, Thomas Howard and Edmund de la Pole would always stand in Richard’s shadow. Annie had to be made to value herself—and to be wary of the retribution that would be Henry Tudor.
Cicely might not have paid much attention to Roland, had he not looked so uncomfortable. Thomas Howard and the other squire were talking across him, and perhaps that put him out of sorts. Whatever, when he suddenly got up and left the table, his companions hardly noticed. Roland approached Jon’s steward, who immediately came to whisper to Jon, who indicated consent, and Roland hurried out by way of the doorway to the stairs hall. He was retiring?
Or was he? Annie’s room was also up those stairs. Deciding to be safe rather than sorry, Cicely washed her hands swiftly in the little bowl of water provided. As she wiped them on a towel, clearly intending to excuse herself from the dais, she found Henry’s eyes upon her.
‘What is it, cariad?’
‘Young love. Possibly. I am not sure, and mean to be vigilant.’
‘Diawl,’ he muttered. ‘I will come with you.’
‘There is no need, I—’
‘There is every need, Cicely.’ He turned to Jon, to whom he spoke over Bess’s head. ‘Pray attend to the queen, Uncle, for there is something that requires my attention.’
Jon had seen Roland leaving, and nodded.
There was some whispering as Henry and Cicely left the hall, but then the music and merriment resumed. Bess was like a marble statue, looking neither to left nor right.
Cicely took a lighted candle from the table at the foot of the stairs, and then she and Henry ascended. She led him up to the main bedchambers. Annie’s door stood open, revealing her room to be empty and lit only by the fire. Cicely’s heart sank, and she looked at Henry before nodding upward to indicate the next floor.
His lips pressed together and then he exhaled. ‘I take it my delightful offspring is up there?’
‘I imagine so. And I fear my sister may be with him. His room offers more privacy.’
‘Why in Jesu’s name is he not housed with the other squires? Why keep him here, in the same house as your troublesome sister?’
‘It was felt he was less likely to misbehave if he was here. Please, Henry, it is difficult enough as it is. Jon and I would rather not see either of them, you may be sure of that. And I did ask you to remove Roland, to which you countered that we should remove Annie. We cannot do either thing, because our monarchs command otherwise.’
He smiled suddenly. ‘You are not in the least afraid to be tart with me, are you?’
‘If I were not, I would say a lot more, and you would like it a lot less.’
‘Possibly.’
‘Definitely.’
He put his palm to her cheek suddenly. ‘Cariad, you and I have much to talk of, beginning with the wine. Although that is by no means the most important thing on my mind.’
His private matter, she thought. He was going to confide it after all.
‘We must have no secrets from each other,’ he said softly, and then severed the intimacy by taking the candle to continue to the next floor. As before, candlelight shone beneath the door of Roland’s room. A shadow moved as well, and then they heard Roland’s dismayed exclamation.
‘No! You must not! Please go, you only make trouble for me!’
Henry strode along the passage and thrust the door open with a crash. Roland was in his nightshirt, pressed back against the bedhead, clasping his genitals as if they were in imminent danger of ravishment. His face changed to utter dread as he saw Henry, and he leapt from the bed to his knees, hanging his head so much it seemed he must press his forehead to the floor.
Annie stood at the foot of the bed, and turned. She should have been even more dismayed than Roland, but was not.
Cicely did not know what to think, except that Annie had ignored all the warnings and this was the result. ‘You really do not learn, do you, Annie? Have you any sense?’
‘Why should I do what you tell me to? You are nothing!’ Annie’s true colours were fully—and rashly—hoisted.
Henry stepped to snatch her wrist and swing her around until he could give her a hard, stinging clout on the backside through her gown. ‘Do not presume to speak to Lady Welles like that, do you hear me? Now, on your knees!’ His voice shook with fury, and he released her so abruptly that she almost fell.
Annie scrambled to kneel, afraid to do anything but keep her eyes fixed to his feet.
�
�Look at me.’ He subjected her to his alarmingly uneven stare. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I … was keeping a tryst.’
‘I was keeping a tryst, Your Majesty!’ he corrected sharply.
She cringed, and repeated it with abject servility.
Roland was stung into protest. ‘No! No, that is not true, Your Majesty! I listened to Lord and Lady Welles. I did not ask Lady Ann here. I wanted to stop seeing her at all. She just came into my room! C’est la vérité vraie! C’est la vérité vraie!’
‘The honest truth?’ Henry eyed Annie. ‘Well, miss? Do you still insist you are on a tryst?’
Annie knelt there, and did not answer. She did not need to, Roland’s sincerity was obvious.
‘Answer me!’ Henry snapped at her.
She flinched, and her face became red with mortification, anger and rash defensiveness. She forgot to whom she was speaking, and leapt up to point an accusing finger at Roland.
‘He is lying!’ she cried, and clearly would have blamed the seraphim in that moment. Anyone but herself. Her chin jutted, her body was stiff and her hands were clenched into tight fists, as if she would fly at Roland and pound him with them.
Henry, bemused, did not really know what to do with a twelve-year-old vixen in dire need of discipline. It was one thing to give her a thwack on the backside, but what next? He was suddenly and acutely aware of Cicely’s warning.
Cicely came to his rescue. ‘Annie, you must crave His Majesty’s pardon, for you have shown him no respect. Do it. Now.’ She spoke quietly but very firmly.
Annie’s frightened eyes swung to Henry. ‘Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I meant no insult to you.’ At that she raised tear-filled eyes to his, and to Cicely’s horror, gazed at him mistily, prettily. She meant to appear beseeching, but somehow appeared very different.
Henry stepped back as if scalded, and Cicely snatched her sister’s arm to shake her warningly.
‘For pity’s own sake!’ she hissed. ‘Have you any idea how you are behaving? Does nothing occur to you beyond your own vanity? You are not a woman yet, even though you clearly think you are, and you have placed yourself in this fix. If Master Roland had been found in your room, then it would have been his fault and his responsibility. But here you are. Have you no thought of the consequences?’
‘Will I now have to marry Master de Vielleville?’ Annie asked then.
Roland looked appalled.
Suspicion swept over Cicely. ‘Annie, did you come here hoping to be caught?’
Annie’s lips clamped shut.
‘Did—you—mean—to—be—caught?’ Cicely repeated quietly, but she already knew the answer. Annie had decided she wanted Roland, not Thomas Howard, and this was her way of getting him. She had not anticipated Henry’s appearance on the scene.
‘Answer!’ Henry ordered, having no time for Ann Plantagenet.
Annie’s bravado deserted her. ‘Yes, Your Majesty. I did.’ A sob rose—well, seemed to rise—and she hid her face in her hands.
He uttered a ripe, four-lettered Anglo-Saxon expletive and looked askance at Cicely, who strove to stay calm.
‘Annie, why do you, who intend to be of as high rank as possible, express a wish to marry a humble Breton écuyer who has no prospects?’ She glanced at Henry, who looked back at her without expression.
‘Because he has expectations. He told me so.’
Henry’s baleful gaze swung to Roland, to whom he said something threatening in Breton. The boy shook his head violently and was so terrified that he began to cry.
That was when Annie lowered her hands. Desire was suddenly the last thing she felt for Roland de Vielleville.
‘I see you are at last aware of your foolishness,’ Cicely observed. ‘Go to your room, and stay there.’
‘But—’
‘Enough, Annie. Just do it.’
‘I hate you, Cissy! I hate you so much! You are a slut, not me.’
‘Gwylia dy dafod!’ Henry spat the words and took one furious stride to catch her by the hair and force her to her knees again. ‘Apologize!’
Roland seemed more a ghost than a living boy. The only emotion was craven terror. His dread of Henry Tudor would not have been more obvious had it been caught in a shaft of sunlight.
‘You are hurting me!’ Annie cried, evidently incapable of knowing when she had already gone too far.
He pulled her forward until she was face down on the floor.
‘Apologize!’ he repeated icily. He was at his most dangerous now, held back by the most delicate of threads, and if Annie continued to defy him, Cicely did not know what he might do. So she said his name quietly.
‘Harri?’
He glanced at her, again with that slight puzzlement that followed his outbursts, but then his eyes cleared, and he relaxed his grip a little.
To Cicely’s immeasurable relief, Annie whimpered the abject apology he demanded. She would never again refer to him as her “dear king”.
Henry released her. ‘Guard your tongue from now on. I want you gone to your mother at Bermondsey in the morning, and you will stay there until I decide otherwise.’
‘Not to Mother!’ Annie cried in dismay.
‘Is it your custom to argue with your king?’ Henry asked coldly. ‘You are my sister-in-law, and I will not have a silly little girl like you bringing my family into disrepute. Now, get out, and do exactly as Lady Welles has instructed!’
Annie fled, not even remembering to curtsey.
Henry turned to Roland. ‘Stay in this room until I decide what is to be done with you. There will be grave punishment, of that you may be sure.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘Just how many good prospects have you seen fit to mention to the Lady Ann?’
‘None, Your Majesty.’
Henry’s eyes glittered, and he reverted to Breton again. Whatever he said, Roland protested his innocence vehemently. His father remained stony-faced.
‘You had better be telling the truth, because if you are not …’ He left unsaid what would follow.
The boy hung his head. He was trembling from head to toe, utterly intimidated.
‘And lock yourself in,’ Henry continued. ‘I am sure you do not wish your fellows to learn you are not man enough to defend your busy little dick from a twelve-year-old temptress.’
With that, he took up the candle again and steered Cicely out into the passage. They both heard Roland shoot the bolt on the inside.
‘It is time we talked,’ Henry said, shielding the flame with his hand as they approached the staircase.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Servants were tending the parlour fire, but withdrew hastily as Cicely entered with Henry. When the door closed, he placed the candle in an alcove on the mantel.
‘I had not realized you were having quite such trouble with the excesses of young love.’
‘Why else would I have pleaded with you? But I confess I did not imagine Annie would be this foolish.’
‘What was wrong with the wine, cariad?’ he asked suddenly.
‘’I … feared it was poisoned.’
‘Tell me.’
She did not want to, because it would mean accusing Bess.
‘Then let me start. I believe my wife has tried to poison me. Am I right?’
She looked away.
‘You dropped the wine deliberately, cariad, and when I asked for it to be replenished, my queen saw to it that the whole jug was spilled. I am quite capable of interpreting the sequence.’
She nodded unwillingly. ‘Yes, I suspected before, but tonight I saw her do it.’ She described what had happened.
‘So, it was not without significance that my taster did not arrive?’
‘Possibly. Probably.’
‘Why did you warn me?’
‘You have to ask that?’ She was hurt.
He drew a long breath. ‘Well, yes, I think I do. She is your sister, and Richard was your uncle. Blood is blood.’
She smile
d wryly. ‘I did not want you dying under Jon’s roof.’
‘Ah. That explains it.’ He came closer, his eyes like a mild winter’s day, shafts of sunshine through grey, leafless branches. It was a strange effect, as if he knew all her secrets and yet did not care. Taking her gently by the hands, he drew her to him again. The cloves wrapped luxuriously around her, stirring memories, sen-sations … needs. His cheek was against her hair and he swayed sensuously. ‘How many times have we done this, mm?’ he whispered.
She closed her eyes. ‘You break my heart, Harri Tudur.’
‘You broke mine a long time since.’
She drew back. ‘I could not possibly allow you to take a drink I thought might be laced with poison. I could not do it.’
‘I should trust you?’
‘You already do, but should I trust you?’ she countered.
‘Ah, now there is a question, mm? Cariad, we both have things we wish to protect above all else, but neither of us knows what we will ultimately prize the most.’
‘You would always protect your throne.’
‘And what is your “throne”, cariad? What would you protect more than anything else? More than your own life, perhaps?’
Did he know about Leo? She felt as if freezing water poured through her, but she gave nothing away. ‘I would protect my husband.’
He smiled. ‘What a little fibber you are,’ he said softly, and bent to put his lips to the crook of her neck.
‘Henry, you toy with me now, and think it amusing.’
He released her.
‘And the poison is all because you and Bess hate each other.’
‘I do not hate her, cariad. I may wish to be free of her, but I would not murder her to achieve it. It would be far too dangerous to my situation. That she hates me, I do not deny. And if she is prepared to kill me, then I imagine, being her mother’s daughter, she has a Woodville coup in mind. Everything her mother wanted in 1483.’
Jack’s observation too, she thought.
‘I would be very interested indeed to know the names of her accomplices,’ Henry said then.
‘If you nurse hopes of me, I must disappoint. I do not know anything.’
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