The Court of the Midnight King: A Dream of Richard III

by Freda Warrington

  The countess exhaled through her nose. “Dear, you misunderstand. I’m not here to persuade you against the king. I came to say that I most fervently hope that these surface quarrels will not affect our friendship. Must they?”

  “Well, no,” Eleanor said, sitting forward. “As long as we don’t bring them to meetings.”

  “It’s not a good idea for me to appear at the Motherlodge until the quarrel is over. But it may be settled in a month, everyone amicable again. You know how they are; at each other’s throats one moment, swearing undying love and fealty the next.”

  “That’s true enough.” Eleanor relaxed in clear relief.

  The countess leaned forward and took her hands. “The bonds between us are deep and secret. They can’t be uprooted by the surface bickering of men.”

  “Yes. The circle cannot be broken. Furthermore, I suggest we feel free to argue about politics, or any other subject, without it undermining our friendship. I don’t want to lose you, Anne.”

  Katherine watched the two women making peace, and felt uneasy. She didn’t dislike the Countess of Warwick, who’d proved sensible and kind, despite her forbidding demeanour. It was her duality that worried Kate: the way she moved through two worlds at once. Beside her husband, she was the perfect Christian wife, grand yet mild and pious. In secret, she was someone else entirely. A high priestess, a channel of serpentine earthly powers. She slipped from one role to another in a blink.

  For that Kate admired her, but didn’t trust her.

  Eleanor had never lived that dual life. She didn’t broadcast what she was, nor did she hide it. So churchmen such as Bishop Morton looked at her through slitted eyes, and dropped insinuations about hellfire and repentance that made Kate want to punch them; but at least she was honest.

  Kate placed her palm over her stomach, and wondered if anything had taken inside, or if her blood would flow again with the moon. She felt an echo of tingling pleasure between her thighs. She remembered his long gentle hands on her body and his mouth on hers, the scent of sun-warmed velvet… his lean body hard with muscle and marked with the scars of hard training. A slight strange curve in his spine, a flaw that intrigued her although she hadn’t been bold enough to ask about it. In fact she was pleased to find him imperfect, human after all. She thought of his gentleness, and the long dark hair brushing her breasts… gods, the heart-stopping strangeness and enchantment. She was sorry the encounter had ended badly, but nothing would take away the sweetness of the memory. No, she refused to regret it.

  “Kate, are you listening?”

  “Your pardon, Mama. What did you say?”

  Anne Beauchamp replied patiently, “I was saying to your good mother that I’ll lend what help I can: protection against Lord Stanley, should he choose to press his claim. And she agrees it would benefit you to enter a different household for a time.”

  Katherine was startled. “I don’t want to leave here, my lady countess.”

  “It’s traditional for ladies of lesser nobility to wait on the greater. Besides, it’s time you learned about the world beyond this demesne. Despite my husband the earl’s disputes, our household is perfectly secure and peaceful. I think you’ll be happy with us. Perhaps we might find a husband to content you, in time.”

  “I – I don’t know,” Kate whispered. A little fire of excitement ran through her. Adventure. “I thank you most kindly, but I can’t leave Mama.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Eleanor. “Anne’s right. It will take you out of George Stanley’s way, and distance you from any other, er, consequences you might have brought on yourself. It will certainly extend your education. And before you say anything, I can handle Lord Stanley perfectly well without you.”

  “I’ve no doubt,” said Kate. Although it would be a wrench to leave, it felt like salvation. She turned to the countess and answered demurely, “Very well, I’ll go with you, my good lady, and gladly. Thank you. I’ll write a letter to Lord Stanley’s son, so mild and regretful that he’s bound to forgive me.”

  ###

  Katherine languished in a bath lined with white satin and full of violet petals. The fragrant heat was exquisite. Eleanor came in with an armful of towels and a fresh russet-brown dress for her.

  “Well?” she said, sitting on a stool beside her. “What was he like, really?”

  Kate gasped. “Mama! Don’t ask me that!”

  Eleanor gave a thin but affectionate smile. “The trouble is that we live in two worlds. The outer world teaches that you’ve committed a mortal sin. However, in the eyes of the Dark Mother, you have committed no sin, only made full sacred use of the body with which she blessed you. I believe this, yet I still react like any horrified mother of the outer world. It’s unspeakably difficult.”

  “So I see.”

  “I can’t bear to think that you endured a wretched time, just to spite me.”

  Kate put a dripping hand on her mother’s sleeve. “I didn’t.”

  “Truly?”

  “Mama, Auset sent him. She wouldn’t send me anyone vile. He was charming, gentle and beautiful. If I hadn’t wanted to defy you, I’d have done the same. Nothing so magical will ever happen to me again.”

  “Magical?” Eleanor said, one eyebrow tilting. “You make me envious.”

  “I didn’t mean to stay out all night. We fell asleep, and then it was dawn.”

  “A little dew is good for the complexion.”

  Kate grinned. “We saw a graylix and a silver pard in the woods, fighting…”

  Her mother’s expression darkened as Kate described what had happened.

  “If you really saw a silver pard… it was a manifestation of the hidden world.”

  “I know,” said Kate. “We were there all night, on the borders. The enchantment just… happened. Unfortunately, it alarmed Richard. He was upset when he realised. Angry. Then he couldn’t escape fast enough. He got it into his head I’m an enchantress or some wicked faerie lying in wait for him.” Her mouth soured as she spoke.

  Eleanor sighed through her teeth. “Typical. Did you try to explain?”

  “Not really,” said Kate. “I played up to it. I wanted to see how fast his horse could go.”

  Her mother burst out laughing.

  “You would have been proud of me,” Kate added.

  “I’m sure.”

  Kate rose and stepped from the water, steam rising from her shining body. Eleanor wrapped towels around her and rubbed briskly.

  “Mama,” Kate asked after a moment. “When I was a child, I remember one night… I would have been about six, I think. We were in the hidden world and a little boy came out of nowhere. You gave him a vision, and he said he saw a man beheaded. I was in a trance, repeating everything you said. You spoke about paths, and told him he was going into darkness unless he chose the way very carefully. Then you invited him into the cave to learn more, but he was terrified, and ran as if the Devil were after him. Did that really happen, or did I dream it?”

  Eleanor answered softly, “It really happened.”

  “It was him. The boy was the man, my magical lover. Richard of Gloucester.”

  “Ahh.”

  “I didn’t know him at first, but he recognised me. Then I remembered.”

  “Understand, love, that most people are taught that anything outside the Church is evil. We are witches, tools of the Devil. Richard has been brought up to believe this, of course. Don’t blame him.”

  “I don’t. But I am sad.”

  “Some are more relaxed about their faith than others. However, it’s said that his mother Cecily Neville is a pious woman, and he’s very close to her.”

  “So virtuous that he had the nerve to lecture me on the folly of giving my virginity to a passing stranger!” said Kate. “But not virtuous enough to refuse me in the first place!”

  “That’s a man for you. Drawn to us twice, though… that’s interesting.”

  “Mama, why are people frightened of us?”

  “Because they
think we’re evil.”

  “And they think we’re evil…”

  “Because they’re frightened of us.”

  Kate groaned. “So we can’t win! Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again.”

  “No. He’s unlikely to visit Warwick’s household, as things stand.”

  The thought made Kate apprehensive. “I hope not. Seeing him would be unbearable.” She was quiet, drying her hair. “Does he know that the Countess of Warwick follows the hidden path? He must.”

  “Not necessarily. That’s another story.” She turned Kate to face her, pushing back her tangled hair. “When you go to her, you’ll find life somewhat different. Just do as she instructs, yes? However hard you must bite your tongue. You’ll learn a lot.”

  ###

  In a murmuring procession the celebrants trod barefoot along the path. All the maidens and women of Eleanor’s household, all the boys and men too, whispering excitedly, bearing torches and lanterns, their hair streaming like smoke. Even Father Dunstan was there, the priest of their little church, who led Christian rituals and deferred to the old ways with equal sincerity. In the twilight all were equal. Their gowns were of thin linen, their heads crowned with buttercups and ivy.

  Many had come to Eleanor’s household in dire states of wretchedness. She observed their rosy, joyful faces and was content.

  Flanks of limestone curved up to enclose the demesne in protective walls. Close around them, trees swayed and the grass was moist between their toes. Down to the sacred Melandra they went, paddling through the swift-running shallows over glassy pebbles to the far bank. Beneath the shadow of Mag Tor they climbed to Briganta’s Cave; passing under an arch where the roof of a greater cave had long since collapsed, leaving a natural gateway that framed the smaller cavern beyond.

  On the apron of grass before the cavern, they formed a circle with Eleanor, Katherine, Martha and Nan in the centre.

  Martha began to chant. Laughter faded and voices rose in a soft, eerie chorus. This was Katherine’s rite of adulthood, a blessing to empower her before she stepped into the outer world.

  Her daughter looked extraordinary in the wavering lantern-glow. Slim, shapely, pure of purpose in her white gown. Her hair was a black waterfall over her shoulders, her face a clear bright oval. Eleanor smiled with pride. Girls born to the old ways – like Kate, Martha, and Eleanor herself – had a certain confidence about them, a swing in their step and a light in their eyes that commanded respect. Women who lived in the conventional world looked on them with envy. The religious authorities, naturally, discouraged such envy with savage reminders of damnation.

  Eleanor had no patience with the admonishments that frothed from the pulpits. If women – and men – were drawn to the Serpent Mother, they would come.

  She foresaw danger. Their worship was not forbidden – yet. The path of Auset was immeasurably old. So far it had survived the onslaught of the Church thanks to a law created in gratitude – so the legend went – after a priestess saved the life of Henry II. No monarch, so far, had dared overturn it.

  Even pious Henry VI hadn’t summoned the will to challenge them. But the bishops guarded their own power jealously. They missed no opportunity to corrode the sisterhood. There were controls on the Motherlodge. They were forbidden to practise sorcery, which was like forbidding Christians to pray. Magic was practised anyway, in secret, as it had been for eons. Influence, the sisters preferred to call it, since it didn’t work with the terrifying supernatural power that folk imagined.

  As long as we make no waves, Eleanor thought, we are tolerated. However much our rulers dislike us, they know their subjects need us. But if we threw our weight around – that would give them the excuse they need. It might only take a change of king for the flood to break, and every last sister of Auset to be hunted, persecuted, slain…

  Eleanor turned her mind towards summoning strength and protection. Kate was all that mattered now. She was the future.

  At the north, east, south and west of the circle, a man or a woman stood facing outwards, calling upon the elemental powers to protect them. Eleanor felt the deep vibration of the earth beneath her feet, the air breathing around them, the crystal rush of the stream. Lanterns flared brightly. The celebrants danced in a slow circle, parting to let Eleanor and Martha through. Together they led Katherine into Briganta’s Cave; the Cauldron Hollow.

  The night became a blue funnel, turning slowly about them. Inside the cave they knelt before the statue, the weather-worn, primal form of the Black Mother. There Eleanor offered up perfumed oil for blessing. She slipped Kate’s gown from her shoulders, dipped her finger and anointed Katherine upon her forehead, palms and breast. A cross contained within a circle, for the elements. A serpent crowned with a crescent, for the goddess. A pentagram, the footprint of the Queen of Sheba, for wisdom.

  “Great Mother of Darkness, we call your blessing upon Katherine our daughter. Let her go into the world in safety. Let her walk in wisdom. Pour over her the light of your protection. Open to her your mysteries.”

  ###

  Katherine felt the cave spinning. A terrible joy rose in her and threatened to burst out of her chest. Everything was blue. The air shimmered. In her trance she rose, and stepped out of the cave, and found the world changed.

  She stood on the edge of a marsh, where rushes bent to a soft breeze and herons flew silent and luminous into the twilight. A forest fringed the marsh, a tangled and hag-haunted place. The hidden world. Some said it only came into being while the outer world slept, but Kate knew it was always there.

  “Great Serpent of the Earth, we bring you our faithful daughter…”

  Now she remembered the boy who had appeared from nowhere. She recalled his brave, terrified face. She saw in him the older Richard, who’d learned to conceal his fear beneath armour.

  She felt that as a child she’d known everything, and had forgotten, and must learn the mysteries again if she were to become her true self…

  Something stirred in the marsh. Fear thrilled through her. Sudden fear gripped her that that she was to be sacrificed, thrown into the swamp like a maiden into the jaws of a great dragon. The ground shook.

  Katherine cried out.

  A huge, stinking man clasped her and she beat against him like a bird… Then her mother was there, filling the air with cold laughter, and the brute backed away, shrinking as he went.

  Her mother was powerful. Kate wanted to be like her. But it was a strange power; not overt like the Earl of Warwick’s mightiness. It was a subtle strength that kept them on a knife-edge of survival.

  Katherine’s eyes rolled back in her head. A force bound her, a huge muscular serpent with endless coils. She was being stripped naked, heart, mind and soul.

  She cried out, “Auset, Great One, behold your servant Katherine, bearer of your hidden flame. Send me forth with your blessing to do your work.”

  This is the work of Auset, our purpose. Her mother’s voice came from everywhere. To heal the sick and ease the dying. To embrace the reviled. To tend your flame and keep open your channels in the earth.

  Kate saw the pard and the graylix fighting. They changed, flowing together in something other than hatred and she felt a sharp, transporting pleasure, the pulse of life.

  Then she saw dozens of sacred Hollows: caves, springs and wells. Some were dark, peaceful, alive with elementals. Others were desolate and barred with crosses. From every desecrated portal, she sensed the Dark Mother’s energy withdrawing deep into the earth, lost. And this potential disaster was not in the future but already unfolding.

  Kate moaned aloud.

  The serpent-power surged around her, raging like a wild boar. It flung her to the ground and she thought she was about to die. Then it was gone, sucked away into the silent marsh.

  She found herself on the cave floor, supported by her mother and Martha. Nan held a chalice of red wine to her lips.

  “I saw what’s happening,” she said hoarsely. “Something terrible.”


  “It’s all right,” said Eleanor. “Breathe deeply. Can you stand up?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m well.”

  Outside stood the glowing circle of her friends, waiting to embrace her. The chalice was taken from her and passed around, Thomas Copper following with a wine-skin to keep it full. Katherine felt elated but shaken. Her innocence had been stripped away.

  Eleanor looked closely at her, concerned. “What did you see?”

  “The Serpent Mother’s power is the life energy of the land,” she whispered.

  “Yes. And?”

  “I felt her anguish. I saw winter falling. The more Hollows we lose, the further away she grows.”

  “I know.” Tears ran down Eleanor’s face.

  “Our enemies don’t understand. But if we cease to attend her, she will withdraw completely. The land will go cold and dry and abandon us.” Kate’s passion subsided, leaving her drained but steady on her feet. “The outer world doesn’t care. They think the Earth is just cold clay. And I must do what little I can to remind them otherwise and risk being reviled for it.”

  “Welcome to the sisterhood,” said Eleanor.

  ###

  Nan was upset. Her tears brought Kate back to cold reality.

  “Why must you leave?”

  Kate told her. They were alone in the meadow plucking wild herbs in the dawn, their skirts silver with dew. Kate went on working as she spoke, to avoid looking at Nan’s plain, sweet face, her expression of dismay. Eleanor’s grey cat wound around Nan’s skirt as she listened.

  “May I go with you?” she said at last.

  “Not this time,” said Kate.

  “But I’ve always looked after you.”

  “Exactly. It’s time I learned to look after myself.”

  “I see,” said Nan. People thought her simple, but they were wrong. Nan’s directness was close to pure wisdom. “But if there’s a child, you won’t be able to stay with the Countess of Warwick, either.”