by Olga Daniels
Nancy narrowed her eyes until they were accusing slits in her puckered face. “Are you a virgin?”
“Why should I answer that?”
“Because we must know. The King will demand no less. I can have the physician examine you if you will not answer me.”
Rather than face such humiliation, Meg said, “There is no need for that. You have my word on it.”
Nancy stared at her a few moments longer, as if she was debating with herself whether to believe it or not. Then she said, “You will accompany me to the chapel and swear on the Bible to the truth of that.”
Meg had no difficulty in complying, though she detested the bullying manner in which she was being treated.
When it was done, Nancy issued another order. “Now you will return to your chamber and change out of that dreadful dress. It makes you look like a kitchen-maid. For this evening you may wear any of the gowns we have had made for you. When the King arrives I shall oversee your toilette.”
Having dismissed Meg, Nancy went in search of Thurton. He had returned to the room in which he had spoken to Meg and was sitting at ease, with a pot of ale on a small table at his elbow.
He started up guiltily when Nancy burst in upon him. “Nancy, sweetheart, I’ve been on my feet all day and I’ve only just sat down. I’ve instructed the servants to air the bed for Henry, just as you suggested, and—” He broke off when he noticed the expression on her face. “What have you been up to, my love? You look exceedingly pleased with yourself.”
Nancy smiled, sat down on the bench beside him and helped herself to a swig from his pot of ale.
“I’ve spent some time with our stupid little rebel and I believe all will be well.” She smirked, and drank more ale. “Have you spoken to Richard?”
“I have, and he assures me he has kept his vow. I’ve also questioned Gisbon more closely. He observed them together, but admits that he never actually witnessed anything more than a few kisses between them.”
“Good,” purred Nancy. “I’m sure that’s true. And I’ve come to realise something else, my lord.”
“Something else? Don’t play games with me, Nan. What is it?”
“Your sweet, innocent young niece, Lady Margaret, is in love.”
“In love? With whom? I’ll soon put a stop to her nonsense—”
“Hush, my dear. We can use this to our advantage. You see—it is Richard upon whom she dotes.”
“Richard! How dare he—?”
“I don’t think it is a matter of daring, Edmund. It has happened, as these things have a way of doing. But I believe it will serve us well.”
Thurton eyed her suspiciously. “Don’t talk in riddles, woman. Meg’s supposed to fall in love with the King.”
“Don’t be a complete fool, my sweet. How could any woman fall in love with Henry as he is now! Ten years ago it would have been quite different—not now! Don’t make me laugh.”
“So?”
“I believe she is so smitten that she will do anything for Richard’s sake.” Nancy paused meaningly.
“Even accept the King as her lover?” The Earl spoke thoughtfully.
Nancy nodded. “If we play our cards carefully.”
“Is Richard in love with her? Seriously in love, I mean? He’s very protective towards her, I know, and he’s kept his vow because he believes that’s the right and honourable thing to do.”
“Just as Meg has now sworn on the Bible that she remains a maid,” said Nancy.
“I don’t see where this is getting us,” grumbled Thurton.
“Well, my sweet. Let us suppose that something happens that puts Richard in danger.” She paused. “Perhaps under threat of some sort? For dallying with the King’s sweetheart, shall we say?”
An evil grin widened the Earl’s mouth. His small eyes almost vanished beneath his beetling brows. “Treason. That’s what that would be. He should be sent to the Tower—”
“Eventually, I agree. But first he must be imprisoned here, Edmund. Kept under lock and key in the dungeon,” Nancy said.
“In chains,” Thurton added maliciously.
“Exactly. You’ll see to it immediately?”
“Well…” The Earl hesitated. “There’s no need for it to be done today, is there?”
“Why not today?”
“I need the man. He’s so good at everything. I was planning to reconnoitre another route on which to take the King hunting.”
“Hunting! That’s all you think about.”
“You know that’s not true, Nan. I’ve got plenty of other things on my mind. At the moment I have to make sure Henry has plenty of sport when he’s here. And it’s not just the hunting. Richard’s better than any man I know at organising the entertainment, the musicians, and putting on a bit of pageantry.”
Nancy was obliged to agree. Richard had his uses. “Very well, Edmund. You shall have one more day’s hunting before you have him locked away.”
“I’ll advise Gisbon that I shall have work for him when we return.”
“An assignment he will not be averse to carrying out,” Nancy remarked with satisfaction.
Two evenings later it was Gervase Gisbon who called at Meg’s chamber to escort her to the Great Hall for the evening meal.
Thurton was at the head of the tables, in the place that had previously been reserved for Richard. Meg was seated on the Earl’s left. The musicians had accompanied Nancy from London, together with some of the entertainers. They ate and drank, the music was pleasing and the merriment produced howls of laughter. Nancy seemed to recover some of her sharp humour, and the Earl was at ease.
Meg wondered why Richard was not there. She hesitated to ask. His absence did not matter to her, she told herself, but she missed his comforting presence.
Chapter Fourteen
“The King is on his way.”
Meg heard the shout of the messenger but chose to ignore him. He came galloping into the castle courtyard and his foaming charger slithered to a halt. She slipped away, unnoticed amid the hustle and bustle that stirred all within the castle—except her.
She felt only dread at the prospect of this royal visit. Her attempt to escape had been thwarted—what hope was now left? She felt sick at the thought of the lies Nancy and her uncle had fed to the King. Saying she was so overcome at the great honour! And that her absence had made his heart grow fonder!
She felt more alone than ever before. Evidently Richard had totally abandoned her now. She had forced herself to accept the fact that he did not love her, and never would, but how she missed his reassuring company. There was no one else to whom she could talk so freely—except for Sarah, of course. But, wise and practical though her maid was, she knew nothing about the ways of the Court.
Meg wandered away, following a towpath beside the slow-flowing river. Richard had taught her so much. They’d been together for some part of every day since she’d left the nunnery. She’d thought of a question to ask him, as an excuse for her search, and had wandered all over the castle. She’d looked in every place she could think of where there was even the remotest hope of finding him but it was as if he’d just disappeared. She was hurt and puzzled and increasingly anxious. Even though there was a rift between them, she couldn’t believe he would have left without telling her, without a word of farewell.
She walked on until she was beyond earshot of the hustle and bustle from the castle. She hoped the peaceful prettiness of the river, flowing gently, stroking the weeds in its depths, would calm her. But she was far too disturbed. Again she would be expected to face up to the King’s eager courtship. Deeply disturbed, she sat on a log and wrestled with the problem.
She would never agree to marry him—nor to become his mistress. Either situation would be anathema to her. She would have to speak privately to His Majesty, tell him gently and as soon as possible that although she admired and honoured him, she did not love him. And that she never could. She tried to imagine a situation where this might be possible but her mind simpl
y went blank. How could she? What would his reaction be? He could take a terrible revenge—even have her imprisoned. Would she be strong enough to go bravely to the block, as it was said Anne Boleyn had?
“My lady—”
Sarah’s breathless voice broke the silence. With skirts lifted to her knees she was running along the rough path, jumping over obstacles, an expression of concern on her face.
“My lady, you must come back. They say the King will be here in less than an hour.”
Meg gave a wan smile. “I saw the messenger arrive. I’ve no wish to go back.”
“I know how you feel,” Sarah said. “But I thought I’d better warn you.”
Meg nodded gratefully. “I’m glad you did. Are they looking for me?”
“Not yet.” Sarah dropped down on the ground, her legs sprawled out, panting from her exertion. “With all the fuss that’s been goin’ on since that Nancy got here, you’d have thought there’d be nothin’ more to do. But they’re all a-rushing about like hens in a barnyard when there’s a fox about.”
Idly Meg watched the water gurgling past, swirling twigs and leaves away to the distant sea.
“Have you seen Sir Richard today?” she asked.
“No. I haven’t. Would you like me to ask in the stables, to see if he’s ridden off somewhere?”
“I’ve looked,” Meg said. “His horse is there.”
“He might have taken another.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Just gone. Like my Alan did,” said Sarah dolefully.
“You must miss him.” It wasn’t a question. She knew how Sarah felt about Alan, and, despite everything, she felt the same about Richard.
“I haven’t seen Captain Bennington either,” Meg said thoughtfully.
“No. Nor any of the men that favoured Sir Richard,” said Sarah. “In fact it’s been whispered to me that Sir Richard ordered them all to leave Leet the day after Thurton arrived, for their own safety. He feared fighting might break out among them.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“I don’t. It’s been kept secret.”
“Perhaps Richard went with them.” Even as she voiced the supposition, Meg doubted it. They sat for a few minutes, alone with their troubled thoughts.
It was Sarah who broke the silence. “You ought to go back, my lady. It’ll only make them madder if they can’t find you.”
She was right, as always. Reluctantly Meg stood up and together they wandered back to the castle.
Nancy pounced upon her the moment she set foot inside the courtyard. “Where on earth have you been? I’ve been searching the whole place for you. Get up to your room straight away. I’ve laid out the gown you’re to wear to receive the King—”
“I will do as you say, Nancy, but I have to tell you I’ve made up my mind. I do not wish to marry the King.”
“I don’t want to hear about your wishes. You will do as you’re told.”
“I will not—”
“Not another word. Come with me. I’ll make you change your mind.”
Meg hesitated. Nancy’s mood was frightening. She grabbed hold of Meg’s wrist and pulled her along. She was leading her towards a grille set in a wall of the gatehouse. She shouted for the guard.
“Open up.”
The guards were all Thurton’s men. The Earl had arrived with a large advance party, and a great many more had followed him. They unlocked the heavy iron door and swung it open. Old, irregular stone steps led down. Nancy gave Meg a shove.
Meg braced herself. “I’m not going in there,” she protested.
Nancy shrugged. “You will,” she said. There was cold certainty in her voice.
“Lock me up, if that’s what you want, but I’m not a criminal and I won’t go in there—not willingly. Nor will I entertain the King,” she continued to protest.
“I’m not going to lock you up,” Nancy said. “I’m inviting you to pay a visit to a friend of yours.”
Her guttural voice held a triumphant note. Meg turned sharply. The evil smile on the other woman’s face awakened a dreadful presentiment.
“What—friend?”
“You don’t need me to tell you, do you?” She paused meaningly. “I’ve seen you looking around for him. You’ve been wondering where he is, haven’t you? If you’d asked your uncle or me, we could have told you.”
“Richard!”
Nancy chuckled.
A gasp of fear made her turn around. Sarah had followed her mistress at a distance. She had heard and was echoing Meg’s distress.
“Go.” Nancy pointed towards the castle. “Your mistress will need your assistance to robe her; look to her gowns.”
Sarah bobbed the briefest of curtsies and cast a sympathetic look at Meg before obeying.
Meg’s dread deepened. She stared in horror down the uneven, moss-covered steps. She knew they led to the dungeon, though she had never before looked inside. Her knees began to shake. It took all her self-control to force herself to move forward. One of the guards put a hand on her elbow; without his assistance she would have fallen. Step by step she went down.
At the bottom was the guardroom. It would have been in pitch-darkness but for a couple of blazing brands. Two other guards were lounging on wooden benches; a dog lay at their feet. They stood up as the ladies entered.
“Bring out the prisoner,” Nancy ordered.
A mighty lock was turned with a huge iron key. The two men went out, carrying one of the torches. It revealed a low, narrow passageway, deep underground, built of stone. At the end was a heavy wooden door. The guards passed through and the light of the torch disappeared.
“Prisoner’s chained to the wall,” said the remaining guard cheerfully. “It’ll take them a few minutes to unlock him. Will you take a seat?”
Neither of them answered. Meg remained standing in the centre of the room. Her eyes were fixed, her face drawn, waiting for the first sight of the man she loved so much. She shivered. It was cool, even though a fire blazed in a grate set in one of the walls. She could guess how cold it must be below. Nancy moved across the room, held her hands out to the blaze and even so pulled her shawl closer around herself. There was little warmth in the fine linen of Meg’s summer morning gown. She was chilled inside and out, empty and cold. What did it matter that her flesh was goose-pimpled? She waited and agonised.
He stumbled as he walked, dragging his feet. The guards, one on either side of him, held tightly to his arms. He blinked as they pushed him into the room. A smell of dankness and mildew emanated from his clothing.
“Richard.” Meg started forward, reaching out her hands to him.
He stared at her. For an unbelievable moment she thought he didn’t recognise her, then she realised his eyes were having to accustom themselves to the light.
“It’s me—Meg.” She was pleading for a sign, a word, some reassurance, for he had a wild, almost savage look. His mouth moved as if his tongue was dry.
There was an impatient note in his voice when at last he answered, “I know who you are, Lady Margaret.”
She thrilled to hear his voice, a little husky, but with that vibrant note that had first attracted her to him. She reached towards him, wanting to grasp his hands, to fling herself into his arms. Chains rattled as he held up his hands, for they were still manacled. So too were his ankles. He was warning her to keep away. No wonder he had walked with such difficulty. He was bareheaded, his dark hair matted, two days’ growth of beard stubbled his face and his clothes were dirty.
Meg was shocked and emotionally disturbed. She could see no reason why Richard should be treated like this. Since he could not hold her, she opened her arms in invitation, regardless of the watching eyes of Nancy and the guards. For one magical moment she saw a flash of spirit in his dark gold-flecked eyes. Richard was still there, somewhere within the ill-treated body. She yearned to hold him close but he stepped back. He lifted his handsome head and stood looking at some point behind and above her.
> She refused to accept his rejection, ignored the awfulness of the smell that had seeped into his grubby garments. She was overwhelmed by an immense tenderness towards him. What had they done to him that he should be in this state? He could only have been imprisoned for a couple of days. She reached up, wanting to pull his head down to hers. He resisted.
“Dear Richard—I am so sorry—I can’t bear to see you like this—”
“Keep your pity—I don’t need it.”
“So brave. Quite touching,” sneered Nancy.
“Ah, Mistress Nancy,” he said. “I take it you’ve come here to gloat.”
“The situation is quite pleasing to me.” Nancy smiled.
Meg ignored that interplay of words. “What can I do?” she whispered.
“Nothing. Leave me alone and look to yourself.” Richard had never spoken to her so harshly before.
She dropped her hands and took a step back from him. She was hurt by the tone of his voice, by the glowering anger in his eyes. She felt it was directed against her as much as against Nancy and the Earl. But for her he would not be in this predicament. It was her fault because she had rebelled against her uncle’s will. She had refused to accept the King’s attentions and had run away from her home and guardian. According to custom, and even to the law, she was at fault.
She faced Nancy. “I am the one who has angered the Earl. Sir Richard had no part in my rebellious behaviour. So why is he imprisoned?”
Nancy looked so pleased with herself that Meg longed to strike her.
“I could say it’s because he’s a fraudster.” The woman sounded amused. “Usurped his lordship’s place. Set himself up as owner of Leet Castle when he knows full well it is not and never has been his.”
“Leet is mine,” Richard growled. “I shall prove it one day.”
“If you live so long,” snapped Nancy.
His lips clamped together. He said nothing.
“I suppose you’ve heard the King is about to arrive?” Nancy continued to taunt him.
“You will appreciate that I’ve received very little news in the past day or two. You may present my compliments to His Majesty.” He spoke coldly, unemotionally, and his haughty, remote attitude was beginning to needle Nancy.