She flinched and closed her eyes tightly as he put out his hand. There seemed a desperately long pause before he spoke. ‘My poor Cicely, what have they been telling you about me?’
His voice was gentle, not fierce or angry, and she opened her eyes to look at him. At last he was before her, clearly, and she gazed up at his handsome, aristocratic face. Jane Shore was right, he was beautiful, but in a very masculine way, and he reached out to something deep inside his second niece. She had been a child when last she saw him, but she was older now and could see more surely because of it, and in that single moment she knew exactly why her sister was in love with him. And why Jane Shore would not have hesitated to lie with him.
He was not a muscular man by any means, but of slender build and slightly less than middle height, and would have been taller but for the affliction to his back. She knew he had been straight enough as a boy, for so her father had told her. The sideways curve of his spine had come when he was only ten or so. But it did not matter that his body was not perfect, for his rich clothes hid the fact anyway. All she saw was him. He was spellbinding, and everything about him passed into her soul.
‘Why do you fear me, Cicely? I would not harm you. I am your uncle, not your enemy.’
At last she found her tongue. ‘My brothers . . .’
‘Ah, yes. You believe it all, do you?’ As he bent to take her hands and pull her to her feet, she could smell the costmary on his clothes. With unexpected attention, he pushed her untidy hair away from her face, and then stepped back to look at her from head to toe. ‘You have grown somewhat since I last saw you, and I am glad to see you do not shave your forehead.’
‘You are?’
He nodded. ‘You look very well as you are.’ Then he smiled. ‘So, you are growing up, but believe me, your troubles are only just beginning.’
‘Troubles?’
‘It does not matter, I meant nothing.’
‘Yes, you did.’
His grey eyes swung back to her in surprise. ‘You would argue with me?’
‘Would you mind if I did?’
He hesitated, but then shook his head. ‘I do not believe so.’
‘What did you mean that my troubles are only just beginning?’
‘That the course of life does not always go as we hope.’
She gazed at him. ‘Has yours?’
‘Jesu, lady, you ask a lot of questions. No, my life has not gone as I hoped, but there is little I can do about it.’
‘Maybe it would have done if you had chopped off the heads of all your enemies. Every last one.’
He was amused. ‘Possibly, and I have reaped the consequences of the oversight.’
‘Do not be so merciful again, Your Grace.’
He gazed at her for a long moment. ‘You have changed more than I imagined. Perhaps I should have you sit on my Council?’
She smiled, drawn to him more and more. Not even her father had allowed her to speak with such latitude. ‘I will do so if you wish it, Your Grace.’
He laughed suddenly. ‘I do believe you would.’ He studied her again. ‘What do you think, Cicely? Was I right to ascend to the throne? After all, it did you no favour.’
‘I know my father’s pre-contract was real, Your Grace, so yes, you were right.’
‘You bear me no grudge?’
She shook her head. ‘No grudge, Your Grace. Because you were right,’ she said again. She could hardly believe she was so forthright with him, but he invited it and she admired him for it.
‘Well, since you are evidently now a lady, I must tell you I have been given to understand that your father consented to your marriage to Ralph Scrope.’
‘Oh.’ She felt her cheeks go crimson. Was there anyone who did not know of her passing interest in Ralph?
‘Is it true? Because if it is, I will see that it comes about.’
She gazed at him in dismay, unable to speak.
He gave a slight laugh. ‘You are not speechless with delight. You do like Scrope, do you not?’
‘Well . . .’
He searched her eyes in the torchlight. ‘But not enough for marriage?’
‘No. Something Bess said made me realize—’ She broke off, her face suffusing even more as she remembered what the conversation with Bess had entailed.
He looked curiously at her. ‘I hardly dare enquire exactly what Bess said.’
‘Please do not.’ She noticed he played with the fine ruby ring on his right thumb. He wore other rings, but the ruby was truly magnificent.
He smiled. ‘Then the matter is over and done with. I had gone so far as to have a contract drawn up, for believe me, Scrope is eager for the alliance. He is the son of one of my northern supporters, a man I like and respect, and . . . well, Ralph is waiting down in the courtyard, hoping to speak with you.’
She drew back. ‘He is? But . . . I have barely spoken to him, Your Grace, and certainly have not intimated any wish to marry him.’
‘So he presumes?’
‘Unless my father really gave him permission, yes, he does.’
‘Do not worry, Cicely, for you have heard the last of such a match. I will not coerce you into Scrope’s bed.’
‘I want to marry for love,’ she found herself saying.
‘An ambition I can only respect. We all wish to marry for love, I think.’ He touched her hair again. ‘If you change your mind, or if there is ever a man to whom you give your heart, you have only to tell me. I may be many things, but I will never stand in the way of true love. Unless, of course, you tell me you want a hound like Henry Tudor.’
‘Never.’
‘Good.’
He was an odd, rather exciting mixture of composure and unease. ‘You . . . are not at all what I expected,’ she said.
‘Expected? Did you not remember me?’
‘Not really. Oh, I did in a way, but not as clearly as Bess does.’ She lowered her eyes, wishing her sister’s name had not slipped from her lips again.
‘It has not pleased me to see you frightened of me. It was the same with your brother when I met him at Stony Stratford. It did not please me either that he is such an officious little prig, but we have the Woodvilles to thank for that as well.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I should not have said that about your brother.’
‘Why not? It is the truth. Dickon is far better.’
‘Oh, he is.’
She had spoken of her brothers in the present tense, and so had he.
‘So, do I take it that you are no longer afraid of me? Or do you still imagine that because my body is not straight, my soul must be crooked? That I eat small children when I break my fast? That the only reason I would come here would be to seize you all and imprison you in a deep dungeon?’ He waved an arm to mock the shadows.
‘Why have you come?’
He leaned back against the wall in a less than regal slouch. His grey glance moved over her again, sweeping from her bare feet to her hair and then to her earnest face. ‘To attempt sweet reason with your lady mother—if such be indeed possible.’
The sarcasm was not lost upon Cicely. ‘She hates and fears you, so perhaps you waste your time.’
He gave a dry laugh. ‘Your mother has good reason to fear me, given her most recent treachery. But Cicely, if I wanted to do away with you all, and if I am a godforsaken monster, do you honestly believe I would not have flouted sanctuary before now and had it all over and done with? Your father did that after Tewkesbury, so there is a precedent. Then I could be at ease to enjoy my next platter of spitted child.’
‘Do not say things like that.’
‘Forgive me, I only meant to tease.’ He put his fingertips to her cheek.
He was tactile, approachable. Disarming. She gazed at him as he lounged against the wall, his jewels flashing in the moving light.
His voice became more serious and authoritative. ‘I wish to speak with your mother. Please tell her I am here and will speak to her now, not at her convenience.’
C
icely was aghast. ‘Tell my mother that?’
He straightened. ‘Yes, now. I trust there is a warmer place than this landing?’
She indicated the arched doorway near where they stood. Inside was the large room where they all sat together during the day, and the fire was struggling to survive. She left the King of England bending to put another log on the feeble embers and then press it down with his heel.
But as she hurried to arouse her mother’s ladies, she found Bess next to the clothes he had left on the floor. ‘He is here, Cissy?’ Bess’s voice shook with the force of emotion that coursed through her just because he was only a few yards away.
‘Hush, Bess, for he may hear! You cannot go . . . well, you know.’
‘No, I do not. What do you mean, Cissy? Do you think I am about to rush to him and rape him with my eyes and words? Maybe I will even fling myself carnally upon him in front of you?’
Cicely drew back. ‘Do not say that, Bess. I do understand your feelings, truly I do. Perhaps now more than ever before.’
Bess’s eyes softened. ‘He is everything I say, is he not?’
Cicely nodded, for it was true.
‘I must see him, Cissy.’
‘If you do, you had better know that he has sent me to bring Mother to him. Given the way she feels about him now, do you honestly believe she will hold her tongue out of respect for you? Bess, she will accuse him of all manner of vice, all manner of disgusting intentions towards you, and in so doing she will ensure that he looks upon you with aversion. Is that what you want?’
Bess hesitated, torn, and then gave a reluctant sigh. ‘I hate you when you are so logical, Cicely Plantagenet. Now you have been alone with him, whereas I, who love him so very much, must stay away.’
Leaving Bess where she was, Cicely hurried on to her mother’s apartments. There was soon a great deal of panic and commotion as Elizabeth’s ladies rushed from their beds to prepare their mistress. Bess had gone when Cicely returned to the king. He was forcing a second log on the fire, and was unaware of her presence until she closed the door. He whipped around warily, but then saw who it was. ‘Cicely! Dear God above, I thought—well, it does not matter what I thought. Never be a monarch with enemies, for it is a truly unhappy state.’
‘Is there ever a monarch without enemies, Your Grace?’ she asked, going to his side.
‘Uncle. I am your uncle, Cicely, not some unreachable figure upon a throne. And you are right, there will probably never be a king free of enemies.’
‘I—I have awakened my mother’s ladies.’
He nodded. ‘I know. I appear to be a true fox among the hens.’ As she laughed, he smiled too. ‘I am glad you are now at ease with me.’
‘You remind me of happier days, when my father . . .’ Her voice died away, for her father seemed a very awkward subject.
‘Do not shrink from speaking of him to me, Cicely. I loved him dearly, and if he were still here, I would still serve him.’
‘Even if you discovered the truth about Lady Eleanor Boteler?’
‘How abominably direct you are.’ His grey eyes were riveting in the firelight. ‘Whatever my opinion of your father’s marital maze, he was still the rightful king, so, yes, I would have served him. But I could not stand by after his death and allow his illegitimate offspring ascend to the throne. The pre-contract proved my right to the throne, your uncle Clarence’s son having been barred by his father’s attainder. Not only was I the king, but I had my own son’s rights to consider. He is my heir. There is also the matter of England. The land cannot sustain a minority rule at this time. It requires a man of some experience. That, I am afraid, happens to be me.’ He smiled.
‘I think you are right on every point, Uncle,’ she answered.
‘You do?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘You are astonishingly mature, Cicely.’
‘I have had time to think since being in here.’
He laughed. ‘No doubt, but you can blame your mother for that.’ He became serious again. ‘Cicely, I have not relished what has happened to you, your brothers and sisters, who are all my close blood kin, even if outside marriage vows. Your father wished me to be Lord Protector, but instead of his instruction being carried out, your mother and her family caused rebellion, my exclusion and would probably have done away with me. I had to execute Rivers and Grey, for they had committed treason, but it was another act that hurt you. And since then there has been another rebellion. I have asserted my authority and behaved as I think is right. Nevertheless, you have not deserved what has happened to you, and for that I ask for your forgiveness.’
‘There is no need, for I have already said I think you had no choice but to act as you did. You were honourable. If you had not become king, England would be still torn by many ambitious nobles squabbling for influence. You are the only man who can control them all. You are also the one with the greatest claim to the throne and the greatest ability.’
‘How old are you?’ he asked on an amused note.
‘I am in my fifteenth year.’
‘So you are fourteen?’
She blushed. ‘I am in my fifteenth year,’ she said again, ‘and next month, on 20 March, I will commence my sixteenth year.’
‘The Feast of St Cuthbert. My chosen saint. So, being in your fifteenth year is that important?’
‘Yes.’
He smiled. ‘As you wish.’
‘I do wish, for it is not pleasant to be half-child, half-woman.’
‘Oh, I think we can safely say you are a woman, Cicely Plantagenet, for you certainly keep me on my kingly toes.’
It was so easy to speak to him. He did not look down on her as tiresome, nor did he show impatience or any of the other attitudes adults so often adopted when faced with awkward, if not to say insolent, questions from one as young as she. The impulse to touch him was too great to resist. She put her hand on his forearm, where the slashing of his sleeve revealed the rich embroidery.
His hand moved over hers. ‘Cicely, your father played me for a fool. A loyal fool, but a fool nevertheless. He kept the pre-contract a secret from me and by so doing intended to deny me my right by letting his illegitimate son ascend the throne. And he permitted me to plead for my brother Clarence’s life, when all the time he meant to have him despatched. It is hard to forgive such things.’
‘You are true to yourself, I think.’
He gazed at her. ‘I have never spoken of these things before. God alone knows why I am telling you. Can I rely upon your discretion?’
‘Of course. You were loyal to my father, I am loyal to you.’
‘It is that simple?’
‘Partly.’
‘Ah, there is a reservation.’ He waited for her to explain.
‘I will also be loyal to you because you are honest.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘There are many who would not agree with that!’
‘They do not know.’
‘Know what?’
‘You.’
He paused. ‘That is a great compliment, I think.’
‘No one could speak with me, tolerate me, as you do and be bad.’
‘And that is carved in stone?’ He smiled.
She smiled too. ‘Yes.’
He suddenly put an arm around her shoulders, and the gesture seemed intimate because of the way his back curved, but it was merely warm and appreciative. ‘You are an exceptional lady, Cicely. I look forward to when you come to court. You would of a certainty be wasted on the likes of Ralph Scrope.’ He kissed her cheek, and there was mint on his breath, sweet and fresh.
Then he took his arm away. ‘I think I should ask if your sisters are well?’
‘The little ones are in excellent spirits. Being in sanctuary does not mean anything to them.’
‘And Bess?’
Her heart lurched. ‘Bess?’
He tilted his head. ‘You do have a sister named Bess?’
‘I— Yes, of course. She is well too.’
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‘And still beautiful?’
‘Yes.’
He smiled. ‘She is very much my brother’s child, whereas you, Cicely, look very like me. But I can assure you that your mother and I have never been that close. Oh, what a dire thought.’
Oh, how she longed to ask him about Jane Shore! His view of the incident would be so enlightening. This thought led Cicely to another. Was he really faithful to his queen? It was now even harder to imagine he had no mistresses, for he was so desirable, both for himself as well as his power, but if he did have mistresses, there were still no whispers, no names mentioned. Nothing. She gazed at him, for it was also hard to think that Anne Neville had ever preferred another to him.
The expressions on her face interested him. ‘I think I should definitely not ask what you are thinking.’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Then I will refrain.’ He pushed his hair back, and she noticed that he had lost part of the small finger of his right hand.
‘What happened?’ she asked, pointing to it.
‘Too much childish enthusiasm at swordplay. You see? I am malformed and missing parts of myself. At this rate there will be little left of me to eventually bury.’
‘But what there is will still be honourable and honoured.’
He gazed at her. ‘You quite rob me of words, Cicely.’
‘You give me words. I have never met anyone like you before. Well, not since I have grown up.’
He smiled.
‘I will always honour you.’
He continued to gaze at her. ‘And I you, I believe.’ He touched her cheek again, lingering a little, and then drew his hand away again. ‘I wish you to stay when your mother arrives. What I have to say to her I desire you to hear as well.’
‘She will not like that.’
‘Possibly, but I think my rank exceeds her, do you not agree?’
‘Yes.’ How he fascinated her with his lightning changes from uncle to king, his easy manner closely followed by tension. He was as taut as a bowstring, and yet throughout remained so accessible.
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