A fleeting expression of annoyance crossed Edward’s fleshy face at the insinuation they were no longer intimate. Since May of the previous year, when they had grieved for the loss of their beloved fourteen-year-old daughter, Mary, Edward had been absent from Elizabeth’s bed. Elizabeth knew that in some way Edward blamed her for Mary’s sudden death from a fever that had occurred while he was at Windsor and she and the children at Greenwich. Edward had adored the frail, pale-eyed beauty with her almost white hair, telling Elizabeth she was the child that most resembled her lovely mother.
“I was not complaining, Bessie. England prospers under me, so why should I not indulge myself and my household? You do not spare yourself,” Edward said, eyeing the lavish new bed curtains and fur coverlet with amusement. “But I pray you, forbid me such extravagance next year, or all my hard work will go the way of five hundred tuns of wine, a dozen deer, three boars, five sheep, seventeen peacocks, and I cannot tell you how many fish. Gobbled up!” He threw up his hands, as if all these comestibles had vanished into thin air. He smiled. “But that is not why I came. Certes, I came to see how you are, my dear. You have been abed for two days now and no one can tell me what ails you. So I thought I would come and see for myself.”
“Most considerate of you, Edward,” Elizabeth said sarcastically, wondering why he had not come yesterday. “Doctor de Serigo believes I have an infection of the liver, and I must be purged every twelve hours. The yellow bile is up and thus my humors are imbalanced. ’Tis nothing serious.” She did not add that the good doctor worried that a lack of sexual activity had built up the seminal humor, which could be dangerous, or that he had earnestly advised her to pleasure herself as often as she wanted, even at her ripe age of forty-five. Nay, Edward did not need such details, she told herself.
Edward knew about purging; he had done it himself often enough after feasting when his gluttony had overreached his reason. He made a sympathetic face and patted his wife’s hand. “Unpleasant business, my dear, and I am sorry for you. I suppose you will miss the banquet tonight? I have promised the company jugglers, mummers, and a magician.” He smiled at her, all the while planning how to fetch Jane for the festivities with Elizabeth’s absence now assured. “I will come and tell you all about it tomorrow. Rest that beautiful body well, my dear. I will have prayers said for you at vespers.”
Elizabeth made an effort to smile. “I am sure you will have a merrier time without me, Ned.” She knew full well Jane Shore would take her place by his side, and there was naught she could do to stop it. How she still hated the woman!
“Pish!” Edward said, using his mother’s favorite disclaimer as he eased himself out of the chair. He did not want Elizabeth to read the truth of her words in his eyes. But before he could open the door and escape, she fired one final taunt.
“Look to your harlot, Ned. She may be deceiving you. My son, Thomas, was seen leaving her house, I’ve been told. Perhaps she prefers men her own age?”
Edward’s hand froze for a second on the door handle, but then he strode out without another word.
“Stay away from her,” Will Hastings fumed at Tom when the young marquess had tried to beg a second dance from Jane during that night’s celebration. He drew his stepson-in-law into an empty room used by the king’s secretary during the day. “She belongs to the king, and you would do well to remember it, Thomas.”
Earlier, Edward had pulled Will aside after mass and relayed Elizabeth’s accusation. “Is it true, Will?” Edward asked with a hint of desperation that surprised his friend. “Is Jane involved with Tom Grey? I cannot bear disloyalty—especially from Jane.” Sweet Jesu, Will had thought, the king really did love Jane, and he was briefly amused by the irony that the same mere merchant’s daughter had ensnared not only him and Edward, but Tom as well.
“Jane has never mentioned Dorset to me in any conversation we have had, your grace,” Will assured the king. “Also, as you know, I am a frequent visitor and have never seen him or any of his household in the vicinity. Could the queen have jested out of jealousy? She knows we have shared women in the past, which would have made her statement seem plausible. Tom was the obvious culprit, but I believe she was baiting you, sire.”
Feeling somewhat appeased, Edward nodded. “I do not doubt Bessie is jealous, and your explanation makes sense. Even so, Will, I would ask that you watch Tom Grey closely tonight.”
And so Will had done his king’s bidding; with his sharp eyes, he had followed the man throughout the evening and observed with growing suspicion how Tom never took his gaze from Jane. And in turn he watched Jane. Her attention, he had to admit, never wavered from Edward, except when she was being partnered by the marquess, and even then, her eyes were on the floor. He could not see how tightly she held Tom’s fingers or how her heart quickened as they stepped to the rebecs, viols, recorders, and tabors. Nay, if there was interest, it was all on Tom Grey’s part, Will decided. And he could put a stop to that.
In the antechamber, Tom sneered at the portly Hastings. “Jealous, are we? Aye, I have seen how you follow Mistress Shore with lovelorn eyes. I heard she rejected you many years ago—too old for her.” Then he laughed. “Who could blame her for looking to a younger man after you and the king have done with her?”
Will grabbed the impudent man’s wrist and twisted it so Tom was an inch from his livid face, surprising Tom with his strength. “You lie, sirrah! Jane has only ever lain with the king, and you slander her and insult the king at your peril if you say different.”
“Mayhap she has and maybe she has not, my lord Hastings. It is not for me to say.” Tom, too, was seething. “Now, I pray you, stand aside so I may dance with Mistress Shore a second time. She appeared to enjoy the first.”
Tom’s cockiness further infuriated Will, who forced the young man onto his knees, both their backs to the door and unaware the king had entered.
“Presumptuous pup! You will not enjoy her again, I promise you!” Edward’s furious voice made Will let go of his prey and Tom scramble to his feet. “You have annoyed the lady enough for one evening.”
Edward looked from one belligerent man to the other and stood like a bulwark between them. “My patience is at an end with your quarreling.” He was unwilling to make a scene within earshot of his courtiers, but his tone was commanding nonetheless: “Will, you should know better, and Tom, ’tis about time you went home to your wife and new child. Your neglect of them discredits you and displeases me.”
Will agreed with Edward’s assessment of Tom; he had heard enough at home on the subject from Katherine, who was concerned about her daughter and grandchildren.
However, ignoring the king’s implied command, Tom responded with a derisive snort. “And my mother, your grace? Why are you not at her sickbed instead of lewdly cavorting with your—”
“Hold your insolent tongue!” Edward interrupted. “And get you gone before I take a horsewhip to you. You are no longer welcome here!”
Will held his breath. Even as the queen’s son, Tom had gone too far, and unlucky for him, his mother was not present to protect him.
Needing no further warning, he pushed past Will and fled.
Jane, too, had seen Will follow Tom into the antechamber and had held her breath as she danced to an estampie with John Norrys. When she noticed Edward’s absence from his seat, she had tried in vain to find him over the press of people but prayed he had merely stepped out to the garderobe.
Jane was radiant in pearly white satin that night, a black sable collar plunging from her shoulders in a V to the gold band around the high-waisted gown at the base of her cleavage. She had attempted to augment her height with a butterfly hennin of twisted gold and white bands, its veil supported by six-inch-high invisible underwires. Edward’s latest gift, a heavy gold choke necklace set with rubies, accentuated her long neck. She had been thrilled with the gift, a sign that she was still in the king’s high favor.
When Edward returned to her side, she sensed the change in his humor, b
ut she knew him well enough not to pry. His anger had somewhat abated as she thanked him again for her gift. He smiled, and offering his arm, he led her to the dance floor. Seeing Jane smiling into his eyes, he was satisfied. ’Twas not her fault that men were so charmed by her, he decided.
On their way from the dais, and attempting to dispel his sour mood, Edward whispered, “You look like a queen tonight, my dearest.”
Jane gasped at the comparison. “Do not say so, my lord. I have no wish to rival her grace, nor do I presume to rise above my station. I am your devoted mistress and loyal friend, no more.”
In a happier moment, Edward might have been charmed, but now he just found himself exasperated. “Why will you not simply accept my compliment, Jane?” he said as they took their places at the head of the dancers. “ ’Tis no secret I adore you. Are you so independent that you have not wondered what will be your lot if I tire of you? Perhaps you should be shoring up wealth for that day.”
Edward could instantly sense Jane’s dismay at his callous remarks despite the wordplay, but for once he would not recant; Tom Grey had spoiled his pleasure and made him testy. However, Jane’s hurt silence eventually pricked his conscience, making him feel churlish. Again, he admitted, her charms were not her fault, nor his adoration her design.
The flutes and lutes were wringing out the plaintive notes of a stately basse danse as all eyes remained riveted on the couple, and Jane knew she must not reveal that she was anything but merry. She forced a smile, but her thoughts were tumbling like a troupe of uncontrolled acrobats. Was Edward truly tiring of her? Dear God, she panicked, what made him say that now? True, he had not enjoyed her body for a long time, but that was through no fault of hers. Had he found someone new? It had happened to Eleanor Butler and to Elizabeth Wayte, both of whom had not lasted as long as she had. Nay, surely her friend Will would have warned her. Then she heard her little imp remind her of Tom Grey’s visit, and her belly churned. Sweet Mother of God, had Edward found out? Was that why she had seen Will speak angrily to Tom earlier? And now Tom was gone and Edward’s humor had darkened. Had he been with Will and Tom?
Jane’s mind and heart raced at an equally frightening pace. As she passed her partner in the dance, she raised her eyes for an instant from the floor to Edward’s face and caught him watching her. His sheepish smile instantly reassured her that she was being foolish. She smiled back, genuinely this time, but apprehension still lingered.
Returning to her seat, she caught the envious looks cast her way by other ladies, scrutinizing her appearance from head to toe, hoping to find her wanting. But Jane felt secure in her outward appearance; it was her inner confidence that was failing her this night. She mulled over a conversation she had had with Margaret Howard about Alice Perrers, another royal mistress a long time ago. She had risen from poverty to be the third King Edward’s concubine. “She was a greedy woman, ’tis said,” Margaret had told Jane. “More than jewels, she wanted, and was given, property and power. In all, the king gave her fifty manors or more, and as he sank into his dotage, she seized the reins of government. But when Edward died, she lost everything, was tried for corruption, and banished.”
Jane looked at the inquisitive faces now and wondered if people were comparing her to this scheming Perrers woman?
“Why will you not ask for more reward for your loyalty to me?” Edward jogged her from her reverie. “You have the right, in truth. I have spent seven happy years knowing you.” Then he leaned in and kissed her full on the mouth before adding, “And loving you.”
Jane felt sufficiently mollified to lighten the mood. If he were tiring of her, would he be so affectionate in public? she reasoned. “Perhaps I am content enough with that knowledge, your grace. I love my house, and you keep me looking regal, even if I am not.” She saw a sparkle return to her lover’s eyes, and she guessed whatever had irked him earlier was receding. Watching Jester LeSage end an impressive juggling display and sit back down at Edward’s feet, she suddenly clapped her hands. “How like you this silly ditty that has just occurred to me, your grace?” and she began to recite, slowly, as she sought the appropriate rhymes:
“Mistress Shore, the king’s whore,
Took great pride in the clothes she wore.
But once in bed
With her handsome Ned,
She cared not a fig for them anymore.”
Edward slapped his knee and gave a shout of laughter. The musicians faltered in their rhythm and the dancers briefly hesitated, but Edward waved them on, still laughing. Jane suddenly wished Bella could see her now. She had always enjoyed her verses, Jane recalled, again missing her sister.
“How do you do that so quickly, my little poet?” Edward was saying. “Put your mind at rest, sweetheart. I could never tire of you.” He patted her hand. “I think I should get my scribe to write your verses down. So much more interesting to read for posterity than dry doings at court.”
Jane pretended horror. “I would not want good Englishmen reading them down the centuries. What would they think of me?”
Edward was still wiping his eyes when Jane took this moment of good humor to return to his earlier question to her.
“I confess it has crossed my mind that you might tire of me, sire.” She put up her hand to muffle her next remark. “Never fear, Will Hastings has promised to look after me.”
“Has he, by God,” Edward replied. “ ’Twill have to be over my dead body, Mistress Shore.” And he winked at her.
They both laughed. The king was happy again, his subjects could see. Without the queen and with Jane Shore at Edward’s side, they felt at liberty to enjoy themselves freely. Couples began flirting and even kissing in corners, hands seeking forbidden flesh, and laughter growing more raucous as the wine flowed like the Thames in flood.
“I fear my brother Richard would not approve,” Edward grumbled, pointing out a pretty woman occupying the lap of a young man whose hand had disappeared up her skirt. “He is as boringly prating as a priest. But loyal. ’Tis one thing you can say about Richard: he is loyal.”
Jane began to improvise again, a laugh in her voice.
“At Edward’s court,
We dine and sport,
All the livelong day.
But one dull duke
With scowl’d rebuke
Would take our sport away.”
The jester was not amused that Jane’s clever verse was upstaging his capering. She was too clever for words, although he had to admit she was always the first to compliment him on a witty turn of phrase or a jest. He was redoubling his efforts to entertain his king as Edward’s bevy of lovely daughters took their places on the dance floor for a carol. The musicians had just struck the first notes when there was a flurry of activity at the entrance to the hall.
“Make way for Lord Howard!” an usher shouted above the din.
The music died and a hush fell on the courtiers as Jack Howard, his stocky legs well hidden beneath the long gown he favored, marched confidently toward the dais and fell on one knee in front of his king, hat in hand. His gray-streaked hair was matted to his head, his leather riding boots sodden.
“Sire, God give you a good evening. I am come in haste from Calais. May I request a private audience.” The long ends of Howard’s gray mustache drooped dishearteningly; there was no good-humored smile from the councilor tonight. Will Hastings joined his deputy, looking grim; he could almost guess Jack’s bad news.
Edward rose with surprising agility for his corpulence, and giving Jack Howard a nod, he motioned to the musicians to continue and for his chamberlain, his chancellor, and his steward to follow him.
“Wait for me in my chambers,” he told Jane. “I shall have need of you tonight.”
“Aye, your grace,” Jane answered him, dismayed by the tension that had again gripped Edward’s face. She, too, rose and curtseyed as Edward made his way into the same antechamber she had seen Will and Tom enter not an hour before. Without Edward, she knew her place at the festivitie
s was awkward, and she had no wish to flaunt herself alone as royal concubine in front of Edward’s young daughters. She must go.
“Do you need an escort, mistress?” As though he had read her mind, John Norrys was at her elbow, his voice all kindness. “Would you like me to see you to his grace’s apartments?”
Her relieved smile gave him his answer, and he gave her his arm.
Even the music could not drown out the bellow from behind the heavy wooden door of the antechamber. Fifteen-year-old Elizabeth of York, recognizing her father’s fury, called her sisters to her and led them from the hall to the princesses’ private apartments. A sweet-natured girl, she hated hearing her beloved father shout.
In the stuffy antechamber, Edward’s face had turned a shade of murrey to match his velvet cote. His fist thundered down on the desk, making the quills and ink pots jump.
“That villainous boil-snouted barnacle!” he spluttered. “May he grow warts all over his member and may bats fly up his arse. A treaty you say, Jack? Signed in Arras these two weeks past? The spider king has tricked us again, by God’s nails. Louis has used our truce to sign with Maximilian. And I thought Burgundy was our ally. Shame on the archduke, and shame on my sister. Margaret must have known.”
He sat down hard, his oversize frame causing the chair to wobble dangerously, and he put his head in his hands. “Why am I the last to know?”
“I warned you, your grace. I warned you in the autumn when I came back from Calais,” Will Hastings gently reminded him. “If you remember, I advised you to send help to Burgundy, but your brother had our troops busy in Scotland.”
Edward raised his livid face to his chamberlain, and Will flinched at the king’s fierce ire. “Gloucester is the only one I can count on these days,” he said. “At least he has won Berwick back for us. What have you done, Hastings, except to worry me with rumors about the sale of Calais to the French and weak excuses about your innocence. You should have prevented this treaty.”
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