A Rose for the Crown (15 page)

“Keep out of the way, Kate. Why Walter must waste good money on you, I cannot fathom.”

Kate knew her place and sat quietly by as mother and daughter perused the bolts of materials for the perfect shade and pattern. Walter had assigned his most experienced apprentice to help the ladies, and his taste was impeccable. He strongly suggested a delicate blue damask that did not overpower Anne’s mousy coloring, and indeed the fabric brought out the creaminess of her skin and made her eyes more luminous. Elinor was pleased, and Kate nodded vigorously when Anne turned to question her. Then it was Kate’s turn. The apprentice turned his attention to the more interesting of the two girls, but before he had a chance to suggest anything, Elinor stepped in briskly.

“Mistress Bywood is naught but a companion to my daughter. I would not wish my cousin to lavish anything of quality on her. I daresay you can find something less fine. I shall leave it to you to choose. Mark
what I say, my good man, the cheapest of all your stock for her. She is lucky enough to have a new gown.” She waved him away without even a word of thanks. “Girls, be off with you. ’Tis my turn to choose with Walter.”

The girls needed no more encouragement to leave, though Kate looked longingly at a bolt of golden yellow satin across from her seat near the door. She rose, dropped a curtsy to Elinor and disappeared with Anne. Her look had not gone unnoticed. While Elinor and Walter were busy poring over velvets and satins strewn across the table, the apprentice quickly removed the yellow satin and put it with Anne’s blue damask. His instructions were to accommodate the visitors’ wishes, and after all, he was just following his master’s orders, was he not?

T
HROUGH
HIS
ACQUAINTANCE
with a fellow mercer, Walter rented the second chamber of a house on London Bridge to view the king’s entry into London. The lord mayor would lead the way along the south bank of the river from Lambeth Palace through the streets of Southwark, over the bridge and into the city to the royal apartments in the Tower. Looking down from her vantage point high above the street, Kate gave an involuntary shudder as she remembered the unpleasant encounter she had had barely a week earlier. Today the crowd seemed less threatening, though hundreds more thronged the bridge. The mercer’s family and household made room for the guests at each window, gossiping and pointing at the crowd below. Kate watched a couple of barefoot boys in threadbare clothing tussling in the dirt for a coin. A large man dressed in the plain short gown of a townsman easily separated the squirming lads by picking them up by their belts and holding them at arm’s length. When they stopped wriggling, he dropped them, picked up the coin and pocketed it, grinning all the while. It reminded Kate of the many times she had separated her brothers. Street vendors were doing a roaring trade with their tasty offerings and thirst-quenching drinks. Unsure how long they had to wait and unwilling to lose their place along the procession path, people opened their purses and paid the inflated prices to whet their whistle and calm their growling stomach.

Soon Kate heard music over the crowd. The king was coming! The strident voices of shawms and sackbuts almost overpowered the heralding
trumpets, and she could make out pipes, tambourines and the steady beat of the accompanying tabors. And then the procession was beneath them, and the crowd’s cheering swelled to a crescendo. The musicians set the pace. They were dressed in greens and yellows, with jaunty caps on their heads and their instruments streaming ribbons. The people of London liked music with their occasions and acknowledged the sweating pipers and drummers with loud applause. Next the mayor and his aldermen, all clothed in scarlet, passed by on horseback, waving and smiling at their fellow citizens.

“There he is!” Leaning far out of the window, Anne squealed with excitement. Kate joined her, and for once Elinor turned a blind eye to their childish behavior and was herself twittering with anticipation.

As the heralds passed under them, spectators flung flowers from windows in the path of the solitary horseman who was slowly making his way along the street already strewn with sweet-smelling petals. Edward’s gold-red hair shone like firelight in the sun as he waved right and left and grinned at his rejoicing subjects. His handsome features and impressive, athletic frame were set off to perfection by his white horse caparisoned with the lions of England and his new sunburst insignia, or Sunne in Splendour. He looked every inch a king—a welcome change for the citizens of London after weak-minded, drab Henry. Edward’s brothers followed him, one an elegant, aloof youth with pale blue eyes and corn-colored hair, and the other, a small, shy boy of about nine.

Kate inadvertently squealed with delight. “I knew his hair was that color! The color of the sauce!”

As if the boy had heard her over all the din, he looked up at the window and his eyes met hers. She laughed and threw him a flower. He smiled back and gave her a mock bow. Kate was ecstatic and elbowed Anne out of the way. “Saw you his salute, Anne? He looked directly at me, I am certain of it!”

“Of all things, Kate! Leave me some space, too!” Anne was clearly annoyed, surprising Kate with her tone. “Who are you talking about?” She had been riveted by the magnificent Edward and had not spared a glance for either of his siblings.

“Why, Edward’s brother, Richard. The dark-haired one, did you not notice?”

Anne shook her head. Kate shrugged. She was reveling in the fact that her fantasies about the York family were upheld by Edward, George and Richard.

By now, the procession of four hundred of London’s most prominent citizens, all clothed in green, was filing past the window. Alice spotted Walter and blew him a kiss. Richard shouted a greeting, and Walter doffed his hat to them all. Anne clapped her hands, her cheeks rosy with all the excitement, and whispered to Kate that she could not wait to see the inside of Westminster Palace. Kate nodded, her eyes shining, too, and thought of the astonishing turn her life had taken since she had first heard of the Haute family and Ightham Mote a little more than two years ago.

T
HE
CITIZENS
OF
L
ONDON
were not about to miss a moment of pageantry on that hot June weekend. Crowds thronged around the gate of Westminster Palace to watch the nobles and gentry arrive for the feast on the eve of the coronation. The marshes around the palace were thick with thieves, and many a pickpocket went back to his damp hiding place among the rushes with a satisfied smile that day. Carriages trundled up, discharging their splendidly attired passengers onto the cobblestones in front of the massive stone entryway. Many of the guests were ferried to the jetty by busy boatmen, who were making a killing on the river. Silks, satins, and damasks of every hue dazzled the eyes of the poorer folk gaping along the sides of the road, and the hems of the women’s gowns trailed in the dust as they swept inside the vast palace built by a previous Edward, called the Confessor. At that point, the onlookers’ imaginations were forced to take over, but it was impossible for them to conceive of the sumptuous scene awaiting the guests inside.

The Haute party arrived in good time, Richard on horseback and the three females of the party carried in a litter Richard had hired for the occasion. Kate and Anne clung to the sides of the swaying vehicle as the litter-bearers jogged along the streets, but once they became accustomed to the movement, they stared out from behind the gauze curtains at the sights—huge, gothic St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Ludgate, the Fleet prison. Elinor showed little interest in the view. Instead, she stared at Kate’s back with a sour expression hovering around her primly pursed lips. Kate’s
golden gown fit her to perfection. The apprentice had chosen a rich green with which to trim the V-necked bodice and belt, setting off Kate’s complexion and amber eyes. Elinor had refused to let her host waste any more money on making Kate a special headdress and was now regretting that decision. Kate’s magnificent chestnut hair was cascading down her back, restrained only by a simple headband of yellow satin anchoring a short dark green veil.

“I am so happy with my gown, Kate,” Anne whispered. “In truth, I hated the red one Mother made me wear at Yuletide. Blue is better for me, do you not agree?”

Kate was enthusiastic, for she had rarely seen Anne so comely. “Certes! It truly becomes you, cousin.” She was rewarded by a shy smile of satisfaction.

When Elinor questioned Walter as to the quality of Kate’s gown, Walter had innocently responded that it was one of the choicest fabrics in his shop and that eleven-year-old Kate had good taste for one so young. There was nothing Elinor could do but thank him, for fear of offending Walter, but later she had words with the apprentice, words he would not soon forget.

The small Haute party joined the other arrivals and entered through the big oak doors at the east side of the palace.

Anne noticed the carvings above the doorway. “What a beautiful stag, Father. Do you see it, Kate?”

“’Tis the White Hart of King Richard the Second,” Richard told them as they crossed the threshold into the great hall. “’Twas his badge.”

Kate stared around her, stupefied. Majestically rising more than three stories from the chequered-marble floor, the brightly colored hammer-beam roof seemed a world away from her. The walls were covered with enormous, brightly colored arras, depicting scenes from the Bible and mythological tales. Between each beam strut was a stained-glass window in a gothic arch, through which the sun created patterns of light on the floor. Hanging from the beams were flags bearing the coats of arms of many royal and noble houses. At the opposite end, up a wide staircase, was a canopied dais and throne emblazoned with the royal lions.

Kate stood stock-still, her head thrown back, her eyes taking in every angel carving, every molding along the walls, every window and every
hue and tint in the palette set before her until she thought she would swoon. She was brought down to earth by Elinor roughly taking her by the arm and leading her and Anne through a doorway in the south wall to an antechamber, where the Haute family had been directed to proceed. Only the most important people in the land would be presented to the king, Richard told the girls, and they were only slightly disappointed that they were not to be among that elite. Kate managed to wriggle out of Elinor’s grasp and take Anne’s hand as they followed Richard into the paneled room.

“Do you see that lovely gown, Kate?” Anne nodded in the direction of a woman in a green silk dress that was shimmering in the light of the thousand candles. “What makes it shine so, I wonder?”

But Kate was not listening. She was drawn to something more compelling than clothes. Her ear had caught the strains of harp and lute, and she was pulled toward the sound. The musicians were playing unobtrusively in one corner of the room, and she wended her way through the other guests to where she could listen more intently. Several people gave her admiring glances, for though she was still a child, there was a maturity about her face and body that belied her age. Her unaccompanied walk through the crowd to the music shocked some and amused others. She attracted the attention of some boys her age, who nudged one another and smirked at her. She tossed her head and ignored them, knowing that she could knock any one of them down in a fight if that was needed. She was unaware that these lads were looking at her in a very different way from that of her brothers. The musicians soon took a well-deserved rest, and the harper, who had noticed the young girl staring—not at him but at his fingers as he played—was intrigued enough to talk to her. He offered the instrument for her to touch.

“Do ye ken the way of the harp?” He spoke with a soft burr she did not recognize.

She looked at him puzzled.

“Do ye play, lass?”

Then she understood. “Aye, I am learning, sir. And that is a beautiful harp! May I really hold it?”

The Scot held it out to her, and she folded it into her arms as if it were a babe. He looked around and saw the leader of the group disappear
through a screen, presumably headed for a cup of ale. “Ye can pluck it, if ye’ve a mind. Go on, lass, play us a tune,” he urged her, amused.

Without thinking of the embarrassment she might cause Richard and Elinor, Kate sat on one of the vacated stools and began coaxing notes from the strings. The boys were the first to notice, and they in turn tugged at their parents’ sleeves and made them take heed as well. Then Kate’s voice, soft at first as she found her way around the unfamiliar instrument and becoming stronger as the music carried her to a faraway place, floated through the room like ribbons of silk, caressing the ears of those who stopped to listen. Soon, a hush came over the room as the pure voice soared over heads and out into the great hall. Elinor had to be physically restrained by Richard from putting an end to Kate’s unseemly behavior. Richard and Anne, on the other hand, were smiling proudly at their cousin, who was obviously unaware of the admiring audience.

“’Tis Dickon, the king’s youngest brother,” Richard whispered to Anne, who was looking curiously at two boys sidling into the room.

“Which one?” Anne stood on tiptoe to whisper back, remembering Kate’s interest in the boy on London Bridge. Richard indicated the boy on the left, who was staring straight at Kate, a smile of pleasure curling his thin mouth.

Kate finished her song and looked up in surprise as the company applauded. She caught sight of the king’s brother and his friend and blushed to the roots of her hair.