by Olga Daniels
“There are, of course, other reasons why this prisoner is being held, as I am sure he knows,” Nancy said. “Take him below. We’ve seen enough.”
“No. No!” Meg cried in anguish. She tried to hold on to him, but Richard pushed her away.
“Now I know it must be true love!” Nancy said. “How can you bear to touch him, let alone cling to him, stinking as he is?”
“It’s the rats,” he said. “The dungeons have not been used for years. I never incarcerated anyone down there, no matter what their crime.”
“It is inhuman to hold anyone in such dreadful conditions!” Meg pleaded.
Nancy shrugged. “Why should I care? His fate is in your hands.”
“Pay no heed to her,” he said. “Forget me, Meg. Look to yourself.”
The guards took up their positions, on either side of the prisoner. They wrenched him away from Meg’s clinging hands.
Richard attempted to bow but was restricted by the guards and the chains. Nevertheless he moved with dignity, and without another word or look he was taken back to the dungeon. Meg stared after him, into the empty passageway, standing, too horrified to move until Nancy jerked at her arm.
“Let’s get out of this place. We’ve wasted too much time already,” she said brusquely.
Meg obeyed, turned and stumbled up the steps. She was in a state of shock. The good fresh air outside helped to revive her. The sweetness of it and the warmth of the sun on her face and hands increased the agony she felt for Richard, forced back to the dark stench of the dungeon. The iron grille clanged to behind them; the guard locked it.
“What did you mean when you said his fate is in my hands?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t understand! You’re no fool. You know why you’ve been brought from the nunnery and treated like royalty.”
“Because you wish me to marry the King.”
“Exactly. It would be so easy for you, wouldn’t it?” she said. “So easy, Meg. So wonderful for you if you were to become Queen of England. Wouldn’t you like that?”
Meg gazed at her mesmerised. Nancy was enjoying her power, watching the effect of her softly spoken words. The trap had been carefully laid.
“If you were Henry’s much loved Queen, you’d be in a position to bestow other, much grander palaces upon your loving uncle. He would sign Leet over to Richard immediately. It’s entirely in your hands, Meg. Behave properly, do as your uncle requests, encourage the attentions of the King and immediately conditions in the dungeons will be improved.”
“And Richard will be freed?”
“Of course. Come. The Earl is waiting. He will want to hear your promise of obedience for himself.”
Nancy grabbed Meg by the wrist, hurried her into the castle and along the passages to the room in which the Earl awaited them. He lounged at ease as they entered and did not trouble to rise.
“Ah! I take it you’ve taken her to visit the prisoner? She looks quite pale.”
“It was not a pretty sight.”
“Good. It wasn’t intended to be.”
“You’ll find your niece is in a much more receptive mood, Edmund.”
“Well, Meg. What do you say now? Are you prepared to give Henry a warm welcome, as befits the King of England?”
“I have always greeted the King with respect and will continue to do so,” said Meg.
“Don’t prevaricate with me, wench! You know what he wants from you. You’ve awakened memories of his lusty youth, Meg, rejuvenated him—you should be pleased and proud. All I want is your promise that you will agree to anything and everything he wishes.”
Meg hesitated, but only briefly. Marriage to Henry was a terrible price to pay—but not for the release of Richard. She could not bear to think of him being held in those terrible conditions for a moment longer—perhaps kept there until he died.
The Earl watched her with shrewd eyes. He knew that at last he had her completely in his power. “I take it Nancy has explained to you the ills that could befall de Heigham?”
“I will do as you say.” Meg spoke softly. “But on one condition. You must immediately improve the conditions under which Richard is being held.”
“You’re in no position to impose conditions, wench.”
“I think I am, for he looks so ill already that I fear if he is not better housed and fed he will die before any marriage settlements can be arranged.”
“What think you, Nancy? Is there any truth in this?”
“Not immediately. He’s young and strong.”
“There are rats in the dungeon,” snapped Meg. “It is known that they carry disease.” She paused significantly. “If he died, I would kill myself.”
The Earl and Nancy exchanged glances.
“I’ll order the dungeon to be cleaned,” said Thurton.
“I shall need to visit the prisoner every day,” Meg continued.
“No,” thundered the Earl. “You go too far.”
“How otherwise will I know if he is still alive?” said Meg.
“I will allow no contact between you and the prisoner. Your time must be completely at the command of the King, at any hour of the day or night.”
“Let her maid visit the dungeon,” suggested Nancy.
“Very well.”
“I will accept that,” Meg agreed.
“Now, up to your chamber, get changed and stay there until I send for you,” said Nancy.
“I shall be watching you, Meg,” said the Earl. “And you will smile. Do you hear me? Dance and sing and smile. If you fail to please His Majesty I will have nothing to lose by having de Heigham put to death. And I shall not care if you choose to follow him.”
Meg nodded her acceptance.
It was early afternoon when the King arrived with his entourage. He was riding high on a huge white charger. The brilliance of his riding cloak glittered in the sun, and his black befeathered hat slanted jauntily. It was a scene of splendour. He waved to his subjects, a brilliant figure in the midst of fifty courtiers, a hundred armed guards. A wealth of servants and a multitude of followers stretched back as far as the eye could see. Carriages followed close behind.
The King was outstanding in scarlet and gold, the colours of royalty, majestic and gay. Men, horses, dogs, clothing, harness, banners, hangings, all decorated, opulent—riches and dignity on view to the masses. On those occasions when, for whatever reason, he ventured out of the capital into the shires and provinces, it was essential that he should put on a show. The populace crowded to see him pass by. He was their monarch, he had fought battles for the country, he was the highest and the greatest in the land. To be seen at his most splendid confirmed his superiority and increased the adulation and the esteem which kept him safe on the throne.
Meg was dressed in a very becoming gown of rich blue velvet. It suited her admirably and was one in which she was comfortable, with a fitting bodice and a modestly cut square neckline. Long, loose sleeves were edged with silver lace, and the underskirt, made to be revealed in the front, was of similar costly material. Her short curls were concealed under the gable hood, with long wide ribbons falling down the back in place of her golden hair. A knotted sash emphasised the slenderness of her waist.
Sarah helped her to dress and Meg bitterly explained how Richard was being held in such awful conditions, and that it was no fault of his, but only of hers, because she didn’t want to marry the King. Her tears flowed as she talked and Sarah kept a large towel at hand to mop them up, to prevent them staining the delicate velvet of her gown.
“Oh, what ruthless, cruel heathens they are!” Sarah exclaimed. “How can they treat him so? I can’t bear to think about it!”
“They won’t allow me even to visit him, and I don’t trust them an inch.”
“Wouldn’t put anything past them two,” said Sarah. “Kill their own grandmothers, they would, if they thought there was money in it.”
“I’ve been forced to act as they say, and it is in their interest to keep Sir Richard alive
and in good health,” Meg said. She made no mention of her threat to take her own life should Richard die. That would cause Sarah too much distress and she hoped most sincerely that it would not be necessary. She simply added, “They have refused to allow me even to see him, but they’ve agreed that you should go to him every day on my behalf.”
“You know I’ll gladly do that, my lady. But what wicked, evil people they are. I’d like to wring their necks, both of ’em.”
“They’ve promised to keep him in better conditions, Sarah, for the dungeon is in a filthy state, and he says there are rats there too.”
“Ugh! Well, those guards’ll have to clean the place up, or they’ll hear about it from me. I’ll put the fear of death in ’em. For if there’s disease around, they’ll go down with it too.”
“I do so fear some real disaster will befall him.”
“I’ll see they don’t do him no harm, my lady. And I can carry messages between you, as well as making sure he has some good food and suchlike. He’s a fine, strong young man. I don’t want to have to tell him that you’re weepin’ buckets for him—”
“Oh, no, Sarah. You mustn’t do that,” protested Meg. “And be careful what you say to him. I don’t want him to know how much I care.”
Sarah gave her a wry smile. “Then blow your nose, my lady, and I’ll give your face another wash. I reckon they’ll want you out of here before long, and you don’t want them to know you’ve been crying either, do you?”
As usual her maid’s sensible approach helped Meg to pull herself together. Pride would not permit her to reveal her weakness to anyone else—especially not to Nancy and the Earl.
Ten minutes later Nancy bustled into the chamber. With a great effort of will Meg had composed her mind and controlled her emotions and was able to receive the other woman with a semblance of cool serenity. She obeyed as she was told to turn this way and that whilst her appearance was inspected in detail.
Unable to find any fault, Nancy escorted her out into the courtyard. There Meg was lined up, with the Earl on one side of her and Nancy on the other, to watch the arrival of the King. When he reined in his magnificent white horse the Earl hurried forward to greet his illustrious guest. Henry had to be assisted to dismount, and moved stiffly. The ulcer on his leg was paining him.
“Let us walk forward to meet him,” said Nancy.
She placed Meg’s hand in the crook of her arm and together they strolled in the direction of the King. His eyes turned upon her, eyes that were bright and somehow hopeful, and a mass of emotions surged through her. Nancy noticed his attention was caught and held by Meg.
“I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment if he cast his eyes upon me as he does upon you,” she said, with more than a hint of jealousy.
“My uncle might not be so pleased about that,” said Meg.
“What a naive young woman you are,” Nancy replied. “He’d hand me over without another thought.”
She was probably correct too. It also flashed into Meg’s mind that it would be more pleasant to be mistress to Henry than to the Earl. The pity was that undoubtedly the King was advancing upon Meg and no one else.
“Smile,” hissed Nancy. “Remember—the fate of Sir Richard depends entirely upon you.”
As if she could, or would, ever forget! Meg lifted the corners of her mouth. The smile did not quite reach her eyes, for there was an empty feeling within her, but it was difficult really to dislike someone who beamed upon her with such open affection. The King moved slowly, his gait cumbersome.
“My little Meg!” he exclaimed.
He opened his arms to her, and, knowing what she had to do, aware it was a matter of life or death for Richard and for herself, Meg ran forward. She slowed before she reached him and, mindful of etiquette, lowered herself in a deep curtsey. She stayed in that position until she realised that he had moved closer to her and was reaching out a plump hand, fingers glittering with rings.
She placed hers lightly upon it and rose easily, stood tall and looked up into Henry’s face. Already it was familiar to her: a big head, squarish in shape, the features slightly flattened. People said he had been extremely handsome as a young man, and signs of that remained, despite his heaviness. She stayed very still, fearful of hurting him in some way, for despite his huge bulk she believed him to be in considerable pain. He drew her towards him and gently she placed herself within the grasp of those wide-stretched arms.
She looked up into his bearded face and he bent down and kissed her on the lips. It was not a long kiss, not a lingering kiss, but there was tenderness in it; it had been almost fatherly. She drew back a little and was able to smile at him with genuine warmth.
“How pleasant it is to renew our acquaintance, sweetheart,” he said.
“It is my pleasure entirely, Your Majesty,” Meg replied.
“They said that you were a little overcome by my presence. If that is so, I assure you there is no need for it.”
“I was—indeed I am still—conscious of my own unworthiness.”
“I will be judge of that,” Henry declared. “To me you are one of the most worthy and beautiful of women.”
“You are too kind, sire.”
“I look forward to renewing our acquaintance, sweet lady. But now I have affairs of state to see to. Even when I leave London behind me, they follow with papers for me to sign.”
He continued his progress towards the castle, surrounded by ministers and courtiers. Thurton was among them, showing the way.
Meg stayed behind and watched and shook with fear. She could see no escape from the fate that had been so carefully and hideously planned for her.
Chapter Fifteen
“Which gown will you wear this evening, my lady?” asked Sarah.
Meg sighed. In truth she neither knew nor cared, but of course she had to make a decision.
“You looked lovely in this orange-tawny, with them b’utiful creamy sleeves all slashed-like.” Sarah held up the gown and swayed it about, showing it off.
“Whatever you think,” Meg agreed easily. It was a modestly cut garment and she’d liked it and felt comfortable when they’d fitted it on her.
She’d attended to her toilette, and was about to step into the delicately embroidered underskirt when Nancy rushed into the chamber. She took one look at the gown and snapped an order to Sarah.
“Put that away. Tonight we wish to impress his Majesty. Your mistress is to wear the cloth of gold.”
“No!” exclaimed Meg.
“Yes,” contradicted Nancy. “The most exciting and the most expensive item in the collection.”
Meg loathed it. The gown which had caused her such embarrassment on that dreadful day when the Earl and Richard had come to watch. Even Mrs Goodley had felt it was immodestly low-cut and had feared it might fall off her shoulders.
Sarah hesitated; she knew how her mistress felt about it.
“Don’t stand there gawping, wench. Bring it out and be quick about it.” Nancy’s voice rose impatiently.
Obediently, but with her lips pursed in disapproval, Sarah spread the brilliant golden gown on the bed for Nancy’s inspection. Nothing had been spared in the making of it. Its expensiveness was evident in the yards of brilliant cloth. Intricate embroidery and tiny pearls decorated and drew attention to the bodice, cut so very immodestly wide and low.
“That’s it!” Nancy rhapsodised. “Your uncle thought you looked absolutely luscious in it. I imagine the King will be of the same opinion, for men do not vary so very much when they look at a woman.” She placed a jewellery box on the chest. “Here are the necklace and rings you are to wear also. There must be no doubt of the financial standing of your uncle.”
She turned, about to leave, then paused in the doorway to look back and add maliciously, “I recollect Richard also showed appreciation. What a pity he will not be there to see you tonight.” With that, she flounced out of the chamber.
“What will you do, my lady?” asked Sarah.
“We
ar it. I have no option.”
It had become customary, since Richard’s imprisonment, for Gervase Gisbon to escort Meg to the Great Hall. She tried to remain calm whilst she waited for him and she was determined to hide her discomfort.
She and Sarah had tried to lift the neckline so that her tightly encased bosom showed less rounded flesh, but it had been in vain. Nor could they alter the line of the shoulders for, as Mistress Goodley had warned, the heavy material of the wide sleeves threatened to drag the garment down much too low. Meg practised standing exceedingly straight and with her arms held slightly outwards to prevent this catastrophe.
The back was cut considerably lower than the front, in a deep vee. This revealed more bare flesh, though Sarah had provided partial cover with additional ribbons to flow from Meg’s headdress. The dress was stitched and boned so firmly that it was impossible for them to make any alteration. She felt that the magnificent necklace of diamonds and other precious jewels focused even more deliberately on bare flesh revealed by the gown.
Meg felt constricted and ill at ease. “Heaven help me,” she moaned. “I look like a courtesan of the very lowest kind.”
“No, that you do not, my lady,” Sarah replied staunchly. “What is more, you never could, no matter what they did to you. Your face is too gentle and honest.”
Meg was grateful for the loving response, though she doubted it was true.
A sharp rap on the door announced that Gervase was waiting for her. His eyes, usually narrow and calculating, opened wide at the sight of her. A mocking grin spread over his repugnantly handsome face as he bowed ridiculously low.
“You leave precious little to the imagination this evening, my lady. It is just as well that our revered King is a much married man.”
She could not repress a shudder. His words had been deliberately chosen to evoke all that was base about the King, reawakening fears that she had no wish to dwell upon.
“It was not my choice,” she said defensively.
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Gervase agreed amiably. “Its lack of subtlety has the stamp of Nancy and Thurton all over it. What a pity Richard will not be here this evening. But I shall have pleasure in relating this evening’s entertainment to him tomorrow.”