A Rose for the Crown (51 page)

“Latin, French, easy? You are too modest, brother. Anne tells me you are not happy unless you have your nose in a book.”

Geoff smiled sheepishly at them both but did not demur. A blackbird sang its song from a branch above them, and they all stopped to listen. The conversation and the birdsong reminded Kate of that summer day in the bluebell woods, and she thought it delightful the bird should sing to them now.

After a time, Geoff stood up and brushed grass off his legs. “I must go now. But I shall see you before we leave tomorrow, I promise.”

He is a handsome young man and making his way, Kate thought proudly. His left arm was noticeably shorter than the right, but otherwise he was a good-looking youth. She again praised God for the gift they had both been given by Richard Haute. Several people looked with admiration at the brother and sister, so alike with their burnished hair and freckled faces.

“Go, walk with Geoff,” Anne said. “I shall be perfectly content here. ’Tis pleasant not to have any duties to attend to or a baby to feed. Go!”

In the stroll back to the monastery building, Kate told Geoff her tale. She waited anxiously for his reaction. He was neither shocked nor disappointed in her.

“If there is anything I can do to help you, Kate, you have but to ask. I owe you a debt that I have not forgotten.”

“Aye, Geoff, I know I can count on your loyalty. That is why I confided in you. I could not lie to one of my own blood. Only you, Sir John and
Lady Margaret Howard shall know. If something should happen to me, I would wish you tell the child of my beginnings and of my hopes for him,” she said, quietly. “Now you must hurry back.”

J
ACK
H
OWARD APPROACHED
the royal dais towards the end of that night’s feasting. The hunt had resulted in several bucks being roasted along with a myriad other delicacies, and a merry mood made for even more noise in the chapter house than the night before. The musicians tried in vain to make themselves heard above the din, but they knew their time would come when the dancing began. Jack had the king’s ear, and Edward nodded and waved his hand expansively.

Jack returned to the table. “The king would hear you sing, Kate. I shall send a page to fetch your harp,” he said, brooking no refusal.

Kate was panic-stricken. It was one thing to entertain a royal duke in the privacy of the Howard solar, it was quite another to perform in front of the king, queen, lords and ladies assembled here. She stammered a few unintelligible words, her mouth dry and her stomach queasy. Jack saw her uneasiness and laughed at her.

“Why, Mistress Fear Nothing, I do believe you have lost your tongue. ’Tis a rare moment indeed, is it not, Margaret? You have only to sing the tale of the two sisters, and the hall will listen to every word, I promise.”

He called a page over and instructed him to fetch Kate’s harp. Margaret took Kate’s hand under the table and squeezed it. “Just pretend you are singing for Richard. Close your eyes and remember that night at Tendring. The crowd will melt away. Take courage, my friend. You have a God-given gift, Kate, and ’tis your duty to share it.”

Kate listened to her friend through her trepidation. Aye, Margaret was right. She would sing for Richard, for Richard Haute, Anne and John, and the Howards. She would not look at the king with his crown, his purple robe, his bejeweled fingers, his wandering eye and imposing presence. If she could look at Richard, all would be well. But she knew she could not do so without giving away the love she had for him.

A stool was placed a few feet from the steps of the dais, and Jack led Kate forward to stand before the king. The page ran in with her harp, and she clutched it to her as if it were a straw for a drowning man. The assembly was beginning to quieten, wondering what Jack Howard had in
store for them. The king raised his arm in a command for silence and nodded to Jack, who twitched his mustache, turned to the now curious diners and bowed solemnly.

“Your graces, my lords, my ladies and my friends. I would present to you Dame Katherine Haute of Chelsworth, in my own fair county of Suffolk. Kate has a gift that I have persuaded her to share with you. She is a little nervous, so some encouragement might be welcome.”

The company set up a rhythmic thumping on the tables, drumming their feet on the floor at the same time. Kate was cheered by the applause behind her and sat down to face the dais. She calmed herself by tuning the strings and at one point glanced up in Edward’s direction, looking down again quickly because the intensity of his gaze unnerved her. His hooded eyes seemed to take in every inch of her exposed skin and bore holes through her heavy dress. Kate started quietly, so the audience had to strain to hear, but as her courage rose and the music took over, she lifted her head and sang out, thrilling the audience with her lovely voice.

“. . . the last song that the harp played then,
Hey, with a gay and a grinding,
Was ‘woe to my sister, the false Helen.’ ”

The song ended on its mysterious minor note, and her fingers caressed the strings in a final heartrending arpeggio.

Once again, there was silence, and for a moment Kate thought she had not pleased. She looked anxiously at Richard, who was watching the king. Edward was staring at the young woman in front of him, mesmerized. Then he began to clap, and Elizabeth next to him nodded and smiled, as did the princess Margaret. Soon the stone walls were ringing with applause and cheers, and Kate was in a low curtsy in front of her sovereign. Before Edward could react, Richard had risen from his seat, come to her side and raised her up to turn and face her admiring audience. He solemnly kissed her hand, bowed and returned to his seat before she realized he had been there. She curtsied again and turned back to the dais before backing slowly to her place at the table. Edward was looking curiously at Richard and seemed to have forgotten her, so she gratefully subsided onto her seat, her hands trembling and her dress wet
with perspiration. The Howards were delighted with her. Margaret kissed her cheek, and Jack pumped her hand up and down.

Roars of laughter followed when the jester tumbled and clowned and then mimicked Kate’s performance with mincing steps and feminine airs, trying to singing in a falsetto and failing miserably. Kate was relieved she was no longer the center of attention and took a long quaff of hippocras, the honeyed liquor warming her insides and relieving her tension. Anne hurried over, her eyes shining with pride.

“That was the most beautiful song I have ever heard. But I do not know how you can have been brave enough to sit in front of the king and all these people and sing. You are a constant wonder to me, Kate.”

No one—except Edward—had thought anything of the duke of Gloucester’s gallant gesture. He must have been as moved as the rest of the company, they thought, and merely wanted her to know it. Edward knew Richard better. He had not spent many hours with his young brother during those months in London, when Richard was seven and their father aiming for the crown, without assessing the boy’s character. Introspective, astute, intelligent, devoted and occasionally impetuous would have been Edward’s description. Now he saw courage, for it was obvious Richard was in love with this young woman of no mean beauty, and by his singular action in front of the dais he dared the world to notice. Edward was impressed, and in that admiration he uncharacteristically resolved to leave the young lady from Chelsworth alone.

K
ATE HAD NO LACK
of dancing partners that evening. She had mastered the
basse
dance under Philippa’s instruction and stepped out with Martin confidently. He complimented her on her song and the impression she had made on the king.

“George would have been proud, my dear. ’Tis a pity he is not here to share in your glory.”

“Aye, Father.” Kate tried to sound meek and avoided his eye. She felt a twinge of guilt at her deceit, but it was too late now, she thought. Richard was dancing with his sister, when their eyes met, and a silent message passed between them.

A carol followed, and her hand was taken in the circle by Richard Haute on the one side and Jack Howard on the other. These two men
seemed to tower as beacons in her life, and she winged a prayer of thanks to the Virgin for sending them to her. Facing her, his expression less intense than on the previous day, was Richard Neville, earl of Warwick. She was able to study him more closely, noting generosity in his smile and genuineness in his laughter. She knew Richard admired this man more than any other except for Edward, and Kate could understand the dilemma her young lover was in, having to choose between loyalties. No one would have known there was any bad blood between the king and his kingmaker that night, however, so affable were they together. The jaunty music put a smile on everyone’s face as they sang the burthens lustily. After the music died away, George of Clarence stepped into the middle of the dancers and called for a
pavane.
He held out his hand to his sister Margaret, who swept him a curtsy and joined him in a demonstration of the latest dance fashion.

“They must have practiced together for hours,” Anne whispered to Kate, and they marveled at the intricate steps and patterns woven by the two dancers. Gasps of delight greeted some of the leaps George accomplished, and he wallowed in the attention he attracted. Edward was watching with Elizabeth from their dais, and Richard stood unobtrusively in the background, smiling at his brother’s moment in the sun. Enthusiastic applause ended the dance, and the first to congratulate the pair was Warwick, who bowed low to George and then grasped him by the arm in a warm gesture of friendship. Kate had been watching the king’s jovial reaction to the dance and was surprised to see the look of pain that flitted across his face at this act of camaraderie. She was puzzled and resolved to ask Richard about it later that night.

Another round dance formed, and this time her right hand was taken by Richard, who appeared out of nowhere to escort her into the circle. She curtsied low and tried to look calm. His hand was trembling as much as hers, and she knew they must keep their composure or all would be revealed. She was much relieved and flattered when they were joined by Lord Hastings, who kissed her other hand and thanked her for her song.

“’Tis I must thank you, my lords,” she said, looking from one to the other, “for honoring a mere country girl with your company. A royal duke on one flank and a lord on the other, I am ready to do battle with this carol!”

Both men laughed. A little of the nervousness left her, and she held tightly to Richard’s hand.

K
ATE LAY LISTENING.
A lone candle guttered on the prie-dieu in vigil for Richard. Jack’s thunderous snores mingled with one of the women’s lighter ones, and Kate amused herself for a while by trying to identify them. The pattern was rhythmic and was just lulling Kate into sleep when the heavy curtain at the doorway moved and Richard slipped in. Kate sat up with a start and then a squeak when she saw who it was.

“Richard! What took you so long? I was almost asleep,” she whispered, holding out her arms.

Richard melted into her embrace. “Edward wanted to talk, my love. He is the only person who would keep me from you. Sweet Jesu, you are so warm and soft. I have been dreaming of this moment for the best part of the last hour. But I couldn’t gainsay the king, could I?”

He let Kate undo his jacket and doublet and drew in his breath when she slipped her hands under his shirt and touched his skin. He did not wait to untie his points, but pulled his hose off with the jacket still attached and climbed into bed. As he pulled her to him, she felt the child move. She quickly placed Richard’s hand on her belly.

“There! Do you feel him? Do you?”

Richard was spellbound. The tiny movement was barely perceptible, but he could indeed feel it. “’Tis truly a miracle. And I thank God for it. I swear to you, Kate, this child shall know his father. I shall not forsake him.”

“And if he is a she? Will you care for her, too?” she teased.

“I swear I will, by all that is holy” was his earnest response. He wrapped his arms around her, and they fell asleep, content in their closeness.

As the cock crowed, refreshed by their sleep, they again consummated their passion. Kate was delighted by Richard’s willingness to please her, and he brought her to pinnacles she could not have imagined in her daydreams about love and lust. How wrong Mother was, she thought. How sad she never knew how wonderful this could be.

While Richard was sorting out his clothes, Kate told him of Edward’s expression when George and Warwick had been so cosy the night before.

“’Tis strange you should notice, Kate, for that was the very subject Edward wished to discuss with me and which kept me from you. Edward fears the earl may influence George the wrong way, if the rift between them widens. He was anxious to know where I stand with Warwick, too. ’Twas a difficult conversation.”

“But how could any man turn against his brother? Surely you do not believe George would be disloyal to his brother—to his king?”

She was dismayed at the coldness in Richard’s voice when he answered her. “Oh, Kate, you are an innocent in the ways of ambitious men. They would turn against their mothers if it meant more power. If ever a man should turn his coat on me, I would dispatch him without pity, I swear to you,” he said vehemently. “Then there are those men who sit upon the fence and wait to see which way the wind blows. And those men I detest above all others.” Richard’s whisper had become a rasp. “For they are worse than cowards!”