As she obeyed, he suddenly asked, ‘Do you sense your brothers here, my lady?’
‘No, Your Majesty.’ She knew her brothers had never been in this room, because Richard would not have kept them in such a place. He told her they had accommodation to fit their station as his nephews, and she believed him.
Henry studied her. ‘What happened to them, my lady?’
‘I do not know, Your Majesty. I only know that my uncle would not—did not—have them murdered.’
‘Did not? So, you do know something.’
His eyes were both very focused upon her. There was no cast now, unless a die had fallen that she had not heard. She did not want Jon to be in possession of any information that this king did not also know, and so she protected her husband. ‘I know they were sent to Burgundy. I do not know if they arrived there, their present whereabouts, their condition, or even if their ship made land safely anywhere. I really do not know more, save you will not find their bodies here.’
‘Why did you not tell me this before? I asked you plainly enough. Paid a’m gwythio’n rhy bell!’ Anger quivered through the Welsh words.
‘I do not understand.’
‘Do not push me too far! An explanation, if you please.’
How could she answer? By using her talents? What would Richard advise her now? A draught passed through the room, making cobwebs shiver, but it was only the night breeze through the slit window high in the wall.
‘I await your answer, madam.’
‘I did not tell you exactly, but I did say Richard would not have killed them.’
‘And I am supposed to accept such a very fine distinction between what is and what is not? That is not good enough, my lady. You have already greatly offended me with your marriage and by being with child before the event, and now you think to continue offending me?’
‘No. It is because I do not wish to continue my offence that I have told you now.’
He moved closer, and once again leaned down to put his hands on either arm of her chair. ‘And you expect my gratitude?’
‘Please do not do this, Your Majesty.’
‘Do what?’
‘Amuse yourself with me again.’
‘Well, there is precious little chance of that now, is there not? You have become my . . . aunt? Ah, but such a close tie is not always an obstacle to a Plantagenet, is it? At least, not in the House of York.’ He smiled his scrawny smile. ‘Well, you are my aunt and you are not, for there was no royal licence, was there? A small oversight, do you not agree? I am now able to make considerable difficulty.’
You would anyway, she thought, but she remained silent, her eyes lowered, her hands clasped before her.
He straightened. ‘Oh, dear, you are proving difficult tonight. I want your sparks, my lady. It has been a very long day, I am feeling excellent, and now you spoil it.’
‘I am sorry, Your Majesty.’
Another of his rings caught the lantern light. Richard’s ring, that large, blood-red ruby. ‘Are you still afraid of me, my lady?’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘There is no need.’
She looked up quickly. No need? His eyes were hooded, his mouth was cruel, and he dangled her as if upon the most delicate of threads. Of course she needed to be afraid of him.
‘Ah, the mutinous gleam in your eyes. You are still in there, my lady. I can see you.’
‘You are unfair to treat me like this.’
‘Of course, because that is my prerogative. I am your king, my lady. Oh, and your nephew, and soon to be your brother-in-law, I believe. Well, perhaps I am your nephew.’ He bent to cup her chin in his palm, gently enough. ‘Do you love him?’
‘Sir Jon? Yes, I do.’
‘You should not have married him without my consent.’
‘You gave your consent, Your Majesty,’ she reminded him, her guard slipping enough to answer him back.
‘I said you could not marry until your contract with Scrope had been annulled.’
‘There is nothing to be annulled, because I was never married to Ralph Scrope. Please believe me.’
‘I do not want to believe you, Cicely. You have displeased me so much that I cannot let it pass. You do know how much you have displeased me?’
‘I . . . believe so, yes.’
‘Then tell me.’
He took his hand away and stood before her, a thumb looped over his rich belt, the other hand loose, fingers flexing, and she was suddenly aware of him in a very different way. Aware of his power, multiplicity, elegance . . . and masculinity. He was not only a king and her enemy, he was also a man of peculiar attraction, and the realization caught her unawares.
‘Tell me,’ he repeated.
‘Your Grace—I mean, Your Majesty, I can only deduce things from what you have said.’ She gazed at him, able at last to bring tears. Such pretty tears, they melted in her eyes and appealed to the nobility in him. At least, they would have done, had he possessed any. Not yet, at least.
‘I wanted you to myself, Cicely, and one day I will have you, but your virginity is denied me forever. Oh, how sweet a thought to have been the first man to lie with you.’
She gazed at him, shocked by his forthrightness, but at the same time she knew she ought to be more offended. There was a change within her, and it was not at all what she wanted. He was at once arresting and terrifying, with an edge that suggested a fine balance under threat. ‘Why do you say these things, Your Majesty? Nothing can be changed. I have never intended to anger you.’ She used her gift as best she could, seeming gentle, concerned, tender-minded . . . everything that might help to soothe him. And herself.
‘I say them because you affect me too much, my lady,’ he answered quietly.
‘Do you not fear I will use my attraction to my own advantage?’
‘Dear God, lady, that is what I hope you will try! Diawl!’ He almost laughed. ‘The very thought has me standing! So I say again, my lady, I will have you.’
‘What does “Dee-owl” mean?’
‘A name for the Devil. To whom you will surely drive me.’
She tried to collect her thoughts. ‘Please tell me you do not mean to harm my husband in order to have me.’
‘Harm him? Jesu, Cicely, I would have my mother upon me like a ravening wolf. And my uncle Siasbar, who disapproves of you anyway.’
Jasper’s name in Welsh lilted on his tongue. She was to learn that Welsh often came to him when he was less than settled.
‘No, Cicely, I do not think I will hurt Jon, for in spite of his crime, I do actually hold him in affection. Whereas you—’
‘Have done nothing,’ she insisted anxiously. ‘I have done nothing to you, Your Majesty. You choose to toy with me, that is all.’
‘No, Cicely, it is not all. You came to me uninvited, you proceeded to argue with me and tell me what you thought of me. You said you would never forgive me for Richard’s death, and that you would always hate me. And you did it with such—’ He sought the word. ‘You did it with such a flourish that you cannot possibly be surprised by the effect you had. You are not a silly girl; if you were I would not bother. You are different, Cicely. So different. Only sixteen, but with all the powers and wits of a mature woman. You can probably prevail upon any living man, especially kings. Is that what you did to Richard? Drive him to distraction with his need for you?’
‘No! Please, I beg you, do not keep implying that Richard and I—’
‘Were lovers? Well, were you? You always deny it, and I never believe you. I vow your she-cat defence of him is such that I just know he had you.’
‘We loved each other, but we were not lovers.’
He pretended to scratch his eyebrow. ‘You cannot go around as you do, my lady. You cannot treat me the same way as you do other men. I will not have it. And now you have married my uncle, against my wishes, and you carry “his” child. Had you set out to antagonize me, you could not have done it more effectively.’
‘I was with ch
ild before I met you, Your Majesty. What do you want of me? If I have offended, it was not done deliberately, I swear. If you believe I have insulted you, or done anything with intent to cross you, I crave your pardon. I did not wish to do anything of the sort. Please believe me.’ Again she summoned the tears, and used them as never before. They had to save her from this new scrape with him.
He gazed at her, and then gave something of a smile. ‘I really do not know what to do about you, Cicely. You are indeed a novelty. You and my uncle have tried me sorely. I will therefore not recognize your marriage until such time as your pre-contract with Scrope is annulled.’
‘What has never existed cannot be annulled, Your Majesty.’
‘True, but that is immaterial when I am determined to thwart you. I can still see to it that, marriage or not, your child is not legitimate.’ He waited, and then sighed disappointedly. ‘Have I not just handed you, on a platter, a perfect opportunity for you to lash me with your tongue? I laid myself open, and you did not see it. At least, you pretended not to.’
‘What would you do if I did indeed lash you with my tongue?’
‘I would enjoy it, that is what. You are denying me the pleasure of your spirit, and I am very disheartened by it.’
‘I am afraid to do anything now, Your Majesty. I think too much of my husband, and—’
‘Yes?’
‘I actually think too much of you as well.’ Come, charm, rescue me.
‘Too much of me? When did that happen? Was I looking the other way?’
In spite of herself she had to smile. ‘No, Your Majesty. You are my king.’
‘Whether you like it or not?’
‘Yes.’
‘What can I do to make you think less of Richard?’
‘Why would you wish to?’
‘Because he has your regard and I do not.’
She gazed at him. ‘You do not want my regard, Your Majesty. You do not really even like me. I annoy you, and you are annoyed that you are annoyed. You are certainly annoyed that you want me in your bed.’
‘That is your considered opinion?’
‘I am damned whatever I answer.’ She met his eyes again. ‘You do frighten me. I do not know what you are thinking or what you will do. One moment you are . . . almost approachable . . . the next you are cold and threatening. How can I possibly know you?’
‘You are an enigma too, Cicely, and if I could turn time back and choose again, you would be my queen. No, do not look at me in that way. I am not an easy man, I know that well enough, but you could have had me eating from your palm.’
‘Your Majesty—’
‘Hear me out. After all, I am now the anointed king, so you must humour me.’
She tried not to smile again, but could not help herself. He could actually be amusing. And good company. Or was he simply laying a trap for her? It was impossible to know. Either way he presented unexpected and unwanted attraction.
‘Cicely, I am not happy that I must have your sister.’
‘Bess will be a good wife.’
‘She will be a dull wife. My uncle is a very fortunate man.’
‘Thank you.’
He shrugged. ‘A compliment means nothing.’
‘I think a compliment from you probably does.’
‘Maybe.’ He drew a long breath and turned away. ‘Will you wish my reign well, Cicely?’
‘Yes.’
‘Really?’
‘I do not want your reign to falter, Your Majesty, I want it to be good for England.’
‘Even though I am not the real king? Not in your eyes, anyway.’
‘I know that Richard is dead, Your Majesty, and that no amount of wishing will bring him back. You are the king now, and I pray that you will—’
‘Yes?’
‘That you will be worthy. Oh, forgive me, I did not mean that as it sounded. Every king should be worthy, because if he is not, he is not much of a king.’
He looked at her. ‘No one else gives me this, Cicely. No one else tells me the truth. Oh, yes, I do recognize the truth now and then.’ He smiled one of his transient smiles. ‘We could have done well together, and I think you begin to realize it.’
‘We could have tolerated each other. Perhaps.’ But she knew he was right.
‘A little more than mere toleration, I think.’ He toyed with his cuff, his eyes lowered. ‘I cannot let you live with my uncle at Pasmer’s Place.’
‘Not live with him?’
‘You must be here at court, close to me, not under another roof entirely. My uncle can be here too, I do not care. I only care that you are not away from me.’
‘But he is my husband, I have to accompany him on his duties.’
‘No.’
‘Your Majesty . . .’
‘No!’
She flinched.
‘I can only hope that you begin to bore me as your sister does, my lady, but until then, if I wish to speak with you, you are to be here. And I hate to tell you this, but I do not think I will ever be bored with you.’
‘I am to be your sister-in-law and am already the wife of your uncle, for whom you claim to have affection.’
‘Do you love him?’ He came really close. ‘Do you really? I do not think so, somehow. Nor do I believe the child you carry is his. He is helping you, perhaps because he loves you. Who knows why he does it? I only know that you have a secret that I wish to learn—and so I will. There is one name that occurs to me over and over, a name you defend whenever you hear it. If I discover that Richard Plantagenet fucked you, I will not show any mercy. Do you understand? If I ever become certain in my own mind that your child is his, I will not suffer such a dangerously strong Yorkist pretender to my throne. Boy or girl, because a girl would attract a very powerful, potentially troublesome husband.’
‘Pretender? Your Majesty, my child is your uncle’s, not mine, and if it is a boy it will succeed to his Welles birthright. That is, unless you wish to bar any such inheritance. You can do whatever you like. Such is your power.’
‘But my power will not extend to what I really want. You, Cicely.’
‘And you will have me. One day. When you finally decide. There is nothing I can do about that. You will make certain you have me. You will threaten my husband, my child, my sisters, my mother, whoever is convenient for the purpose. And I will come to you to protect them.’
‘But you will not love me.’
‘Nor will you love me. You desire me, that is all, and—through duress—you will see that I do whatever you wish of me.’
He laughed. ‘Whatever I wish? Dear God, I will have to start my list now.’
Again she was forced to smile, although she loathed herself for it. His humour was not always dark and unfathomable. ‘Your Majesty, you are . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Impossible.’
‘Another royal prerogative.’ He put his hand to her cheek suddenly. ‘You have to forgive me for all this, Cicely. I cannot help myself.’
The tenderness in his touch seemed to sting her, and she drew back. ‘Yes, you can! You relish it. Have you not already told me that? One moment you are gentle, the next you are filled with malice.’
‘It is all your fault.’
‘Yes, well, you would say that, would you not?’ She took his hand suddenly, something she would not have dared to do before. ‘Please do not do anything to hurt my child. I promise I will do anything you wish of me, but my child—’
His fingers were around hers, and she could feel Richard’s ring. ‘Is safe enough. Unless its parentage becomes an unavoidable issue.’
‘It will not.’ She could not have seemed more open and sincere had she been Veritas herself. She used her wiles now, because so much depended upon it. She did not want Henry Tudor to feel as he did, and she regretted having gone to him, but it was too late now. Maybe he was still the wrong man for charm, maybe he always would be, but she did know she was now vulnerable to him in more ways than one.
‘I
will have to think about whether I believe you or not, Cicely.’
‘You really should not call me that. You cannot address me by name and then be formal with my sister. It is not right.’
‘I am hardly likely to be this familiar in company.’
‘But you are the king, you can do what you want, is that not what you keep reminding me?’ she replied, trying to pull her fingers away, but he would not let her.
‘Cicely, if I wish to make you come to me and submit to whatever I wish, I will threaten the Earls of Lincoln and Warwick, and Richard’s bastard son, John of Gloucester. They are still here, in the Tower, completely at my disposal.’
‘May I see them?’
‘No.’
‘Your Majesty—’
‘No is not a very long word, my lady, and its meaning is fairly straightforward.’
She lowered her eyes quickly.
‘Cicely, they will suffer greatly if you do not comply with everything I wish from now on. I was going to free them at Christmas, but now I think it can wait until the spring. May. Yes, May is a good month, is it not? They will be freed then, sufficiently beyond the birth of your child for you to come to me. Their safety and freedom will depend upon you.’
He released her and glanced around the room, in such a way that she felt the hairs stir at the back of her neck. There was some frightful significance to this chamber. It had nothing to do with her brothers, but was something else entirely, something that aroused aversion.
Henry felt it too, but then a cough overtook him. For a moment she thought it would become quite a fit of coughing, but instead it passed. He had braced himself for more, clearly expecting much greater distress, and his relief when it did not happen was quite visible. She watched him. ‘Is something wrong, Your Majesty? Shall I bring you some wine?’
‘No, and no. But thank you. Go now. I am sure you know your way back to the banquet.’
She hesitated, thus failing yet again to obey him without question. ‘What happened in this room?’ she asked, trying not to shudder.
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