“If Agnes has not heard, then I certainly haven’t. She is not at Richmond.”
Catherine went out to cool her head, just as four men came in, storming up the dust. Benjamin came out behind her. Catherine said, “Who is that?”
“They’re mine. I sent them to Ashridge.” The party swung to the ground, pulling off their hats and bowing. Benjamin said, “What news?”
The leader approached and bowed. “Lady Overton?”
“I am she,” said Catherine.
“Your son, Lady. We come with sad tidings. He’s fallen from his horse.”
The air went cloudy-white. “Is he alive?” Benjamin’s arms were around her, easing her to the ground, and Veronica was running out, crying “Mother, Mother,” and Catherine stumbled backward until her foot hit stone and she sat.
“He has a leg wound,” said the man. “Sir, do you mark me? Can you make the lady hear? The boy sends word that he wants his mother to come to Ashridge. The prince wishes it, as well. He has ordered it.”
The fog around Catherine dissolved into black and yellow spots, dancing like tiny demons before her eyes. She was lifted then, and her daughter was at her side, tugging her skirt.
“Mother?”
“We must journey west, Veronica. Your brother calls for us and we will not say him nay. “What think you of seeing a prince’s court?”
“Does he wear a golden crown?”
“We will have to find that out for ourselves, won’t we?” asked Catherine. “Shall we follow the sun?”
“Yes, Mother,” said the child.
Benjamin was already running back inside, ordering food and servants to ride with them. Catherine called for Ann to pack their bags.
“I will stay,” Ann said. She pulled open the chest with the finer things.“You will ride the faster without me.”
“But we will see the prince!” said Veronica.
“I have no wish to see the prince, kitten,” said Ann. She tucked in two heavy cloaks. She murmured to Catherine, “Will you tell him?”
“I think not. Not now. He’s just a little boy. He’s hurt.”
“Take care, then. Of the boy and yourself. Give him my love.”
Catherine put her arms around her friend. “Walk in the fresh air. Eat. Heal yourself.”
Ann held Catherine out before her and looked her up and down. “Physician, I might say the same to you. You are nothing but bones. You’re not hearty enough for an odyssey.”
“And yet I am called to go,” said Catherine. “The springtime will mend me.”
“I pray that all will be well.”
Reg appeared at the door to say that the horses were ready. Benjamin was already testing the belly-bands when Diana came out with a maid, lugging food.
Benjamin turned Caesar in circles, then leapt onto him. Catherine patted her pony and let him smell her. Ann handed Veronica onto the little mare that Benjamin had ordered up for her. She gave two bags to the manservants on the big geldings.
“Are you certain that you are woman enough to ride by yourself?” Catherine asked Veronica.
The child took up her reins. “Overtons ride before they walk,” she said, and Catherine’s heart twinged at the child’s words. “My brother says so.”
The way west lay open, and Catherine urged her palfrey forward, praying into the broad blue sky before her that her son would be alive, waiting for her, when they arrived.
35
Three days of riding, unsure and unwed, under the sun. Three days of dirty inns and narrow beds, without enough linen to serve them. On the second night, Benjamin knocked softly on the door where Catherine lay, but she did not answer, though she lay alone. In the dark, she seemed to see the shadow of Margaret skulking in the corner. Then the eyes of a man. Then the dark bulk of the king himself.
By day, Catherine’s haunches ached, and Veronica complained until her mother let her share the palfrey, leading the little mare behind them. The fields were already green, and Catherine pointed out the ground-dwelling birds in the grasses to her daughter as they rode by. Benjamin kept his distance at the front until late in the evening of the third day. The setting sun splayed its massive fingers across the sky before them, and Catherine held her hand in front of her face. Veronica was dozing, leaning back, and when Benjamin whooped, the child sat up straight.
Catherine allowed herself to look, and here came the man, riding and waving until he circled the palfrey and trotted up beside her, saying “We’ll be there before nightfall. I can see it.”
“What?” said Veronica, twisting to look up at Catherine. “What does he see?”
“Ashridge,” said Catherine. “Where your brother lies.”
“Robbie!” the child cried, and she struggled against her mother’s arm. “Let me ride with you, Master Benjamin. You are the faster.”
“Your mother rides right here beside me,” said Benjamin. He touched Veronica’s nose. “And you should be commanding the reins of your steed.”
The girl nodded and laid her fingers on top of her mother’s hand. Catherine said, “What will you say to your brother when you see him? He is laid low with an injury and you must not excite him, do you hear?”
“I will sit by his side and serve him his supper,” said Veronica. She reached into her coat and showed the poppet. “I will let him hold Cleopatra.” Catherine smiled over the child’s head, but her heart squirmed in her chest.
The ladies of the household dawdled at the windows as they rode up, whispering to one another. Only the royal nurse came outside and stood, her arms crossed over her breast, until Catherine dismounted and lifted Veronica to the ground. “Lady Bryan,” she said, curtseying. “You see me returned into your company, whole and sound with my daughter. How do you this many a day?”
Lady Bryan softened about the shoulders somewhat, and she finally smiled. “Lady Overton. You are thin as a snake. Do they keep you from your own kitchen?”
“No. It has been a hard road. Tell me, how fares my son?”
Lady Bryan pointed to the bags as some Ashridge maids skittered past, dipping to the ground briefly, and the girls lifted the small items from the animals and returned to the house. “He recovers handsomely. He has taken himself to the bed just now. You must eat, and I will see that he is wakened to greet you.”
“Have you had any news of my coming?”
“We have had much news of you,” said Lady Bryan evenly. “I see you have brought the man.”
“Benjamin would not have us come alone.”
“No. I suppose he would not. Come, you will dine.” She wrapped her fingers around Catherine’s right elbow and tugged. “We will restore your health, at least.”
“Would that my good name might be as easily restored.”
“Reputation,” said Lady Bryan under her breath. “Easily marred. And hard to recover, for a woman. At least you have your head upon your shoulders. And you will be perfect from now to doomsday. We have all laid bets upon that.”
Catherine coughed. “And how does the change of life come along? Do your pains still plague you? Have you some relief since last we met?”
At this, Lady Bryan touched her breast and her voice went liquid. “I am cursed with it, night and day. My mouth carries the taste of old coins. And the heats grip me like a demon.” She took hold of Catherine’s hand. “I am glad to see you well. Come inside. The boy will want to clap eyes on you.”
Catherine followed, leading her daughter, while Benjamin and Reg took the horses toward the stables. Inside, the hive of waiting ladies broke apart, some waving briefly, others leaning their heads together before buzzing off. Two women approached to lay their hands on Catherine’s arms and say “blessed to see you here, Lady Overton” before they disappeared to hidden rooms. Catherine and Veronica were left alone in the great hall with Lady Bryan, and when, from a distance, the Prince of Wal
es, surrounded by a flock of young boys, called out, his thin voice echoed through the open space. “Hallo!” he cried out again, as though they were dairy maids returning from Christmas with their families.
Catherine dropped to her knees, and Veronica copied her mother. “Your Grace.”
The boy was a winter stick. Catherine watched his skinny shanks come to a stop before her. The fine hose wrinkled around his ankles. He said, “Stand up, stand up and let me see your face.”Catherine rose to her feet and pulled Veronica up beside her. “Mother of Robert Overton. It is pleasing to see you come when your son is in need.” He regarded Veronica and bent to study her face, hands planted on the flat planes of his hips. “Are you a good girl? Do you mind your elders?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” murmured Veronica, glancing up at her mother.
“And do you obey your brother?”
Veronica shifted her weight from one leg to the other. “Yes, Your Grace.”
The prince nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Girls should learn to obey,” he said. “Brothers are meant to guide their sisters. And sometimes sons must guide the mothers.” He nodded to them both, then turned and signaled to two serving men to follow. The boys swooped into formation around him. The women stood unmoving until he had disappeared with his train around the corner.
“And where is the lady-maid?” asked Lady Bryan. “Your Ann?”
“She did not feel well after our ordeal,” said Catherine.
“She is too weary to ride far just now and stays at Benjamin Davies’ house to recover. She would not be a burden to you.”
“There is no burden in this house,” said Lady Bryan, swatting the air. “There are rooms for all. The king sees to it. As long as she is clean.”
“And what do you hear of Kat Champernowne? I mean, Kat Ashley?”
“Still an Ashley, still governess to the Lady Elizabeth. Content, I believe, though it is a task I would go out of my way to evade.”
“I’ve seen her lately,” said Catherine. “Elizabeth. She seems . . . high-spirited.”
“Overwrought and hysterical, you might say,” murmured Lady Bryan, “if you were allowed to say anything at all of the prince’s sister. She is too much the mother.”
Catherine went after Lady Bryan into the great dining hall, where silver dishes of food were being laid out. She heard the men’s voices, but they went on by. “Eat,” said Lady Bryan. “There is always food. I will return.”
The table offered meats and bread and a large dish of steaming carrots, dotted with green leeks. Jugs of red wine and ale, surrounded by clean cups and goblets. A little maid came to Veronica’s side and said, “May I serve you, Madam?”
Veronica squealed and clapped her hands. “I am a Madam, Mother!” She flounced onto a chair, set Cleopatra on the table beside her, and nodded at the maid.
Catherine sat next to her daughter and filled her own dish. “Do not overstuff,” she said, but the bread was so soft and sweet that she could barely contain herself. Benjamin came in with Reginald, and they took their places across from Catherine.
“By my soul, the food is good,” said Catherine.
Benjamin opened his mouth, but Lady Bryan was in the doorway before he could speak. “Your son asks for you.”
Catherine was on her feet. “Lead on.”
Robbie’s chamber was on the second floor, and he lay alone in a vast bed. A man sat beside him with a volume of the gospels in his hand, and he rose at Catherine’s appearance and moved silently, head bowed, through the door at the back of the room. Catherine stopped at the sight of her son, pale and small in the middle of the wide mattress, but Veronica ran past and had almost leapt up beside him when Catherine grabbed her. “No, he’s injured.”
Robbie smiled at his sister, and Catherine laid her hand on his brow. “My dear son,” she said. “I praise God to see you healing.”
The boy struggled among the heavy bedclothes to sit up. “Hallo, Lady Mother. And you, my sister. Kiss me.” Catherine lifted the girl and she pecked her brother’s cheek.
Catherine moved to the foot of the bed.“May I look, Robbie?”
The boy nodded, and Catherine uncovered his leg. His right foot was wrapped in pristine linen. It looked straight enough. It was not swollen.
“What dressing have they put upon it?” she asked, and Lady Bryan said, “The physician says it is not broken.”
Catherine unknotted the cloth and rolled it back until the ankle was exposed. A small island of bruise, already yellowed at its borders. She put her thumb against his arch. “You can wriggle your toes?” she asked, and he showed her. She stroked the bones and found them straight and strong. “A poultice of thyme would settle the blood. I see no need for the wrap.”“Will I ride again, do you think, Mother?” Robbie sat up, watching her work.
“I expect you will,” she said, “but only if you vow to be more careful in the future.”
“Set my sister here beside me,” he said, and Catherine helped the girl onto the bed, where she patted his hair.
“How does the boy?” Benjamin Davies stood in the doorway. Reg was behind him, and Benjamin stood aside and let the serving man enter.
“Master Robert,” said Reginald.
“You were my father’s man,” said Robbie. He stared beyond Reg to Benjamin Davies. “And what do you do here?” His gaze slid to Catherine. “Why is he here?”
Catherine’s breast sparked. “Master Davies was your father’s faithful friend, and he has done Reg a kindness by taking him on. You know this, Robbie.”
Robbie scrutinized Reg, then Benjamin. He said to Catherine, “Do tell us what has happened in London. They say some of the girls in your care confessed thefts and treasons. That they spoke ill of the king and wished for his death. Their mothers should have been whipped for letting them go to the devil.”
“Never. They never said such things,” said Catherine. “They were silly children who were tempted. They should have had their knuckles rapped and been set to milking the worst-tempered of the cows. That’s all. To kill young girls for having the judgment of young girls—”
Lady Bryan cut in. “Young girls often decide badly.”
“You have taught me,” Veronica said, “Will they kill me, Mother? For being a young girl?”
Catherine’s throat filled with embers, and she said, “You are a good girl, Veronica.”
Benjamin said, “It is the fault of these new, rising men, and the constables and lawyers. They must have the courts filled and so they listen to slanders against gentlemen whose greatest crime is to wear their sleeves out of fashion and old farmers who cannot remember the Pater Noster in English. And helpless girls.”
Catherine stole a look at Lady Bryan, but her attention was fixed on the window. Robbie, however, had gone scarlet. “You question the reforms? Our laws?”
“I do not,” Benjamin said. He walked over to the bed and gazed down on the angry boy. “I question the punishment of English citizens on only the word of men who are paid to find someone to accuse. Or think they will be paid. Some men in this land are so corrupt that they would condemn their own mothers to death because their dugs dried up. The court relented toward your own mother only because they had orders that forced them to do it. They accused her on libels and would have convicted her on a lie. They might have put her head in a noose. You might be grateful to see your mother alive.”
Robbie ignored Benjamin and looked full at Catherine. “I have forgot myself, Mother. You and your companions are most welcome.” His mouth lifted into a shadow of a smile. But his blue eyes remained cold.
36
The night was alive with voices, and Catherine lay in the big bed she was assigned, listening to whisperings in the hall. Twice, someone ran past her room, but the footsteps faded before she could get up. Veronica slept beside her, unaware of the noises. Catherine laid her hand on her belly. She wanted
Ann. By the time the dawn yawned across the east, grey and foggy, she was up, dressing herself. She roused her daughter and sought out her son.
But Robbie was not in his chamber, and Catherine hurried on down to the dining hall, where she found Benjamin surrounded by the ladies of the house. When Catherine walked in, he elbowed his way across to her. “I am as welcome here as the sweat. I should ride back to London.”
“You seem to have gathered quite a little court,” said Catherine.
“They want to know about you,” he said. “Let me go. Your son would be glad of it.”
Lady Bryan came in and sat at the head of the table. “Ah, Master Davies. You mustn’t mind young Robert. These boys change with the wind.” The servants brought in more food. “Come. Eat.” She beckoned to Catherine, and Benjamin took a chair at the foot of the table.
“It is not as easy as that,” Benjamin said. He was forced to raise his voice to be heard the length of the room.
Lady Bryan dismissed him with a hand wave. “I see how it is. When the recent storm has blown by, the black mood of the king will pass with it, and all will be well.”
“Yes, all has been so well under the king,” said Benjamin.
“What do you say?” asked Lady Bryan.
“Nothing,” said Benjamin. “I say I would have Lady Catherine well.”
“Put it out of your mind,” said Lady Bryan.
“She is free now. No one will speak any more against her.”
Catherine snagged a fistful of bread and bit it. “Where is Robbie?”
“Up and about,” Lady Bryan said
“The injury does not seem severe,” said Catherine.
“Perhaps not. But the boy insisted that he would see his mother. You are his best physician.”
“Do not call me physician. It’s not permitted.”
“I hear that you will be called whatever you decide for yourself.”
“Mother will do for me.”
“Then mother you will be.”
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