A Rose for the Crown (88 page)

Before the second course was served, the king’s champion, encased in white armor, rode into the hall on a silk-draped horse, shouting above the din, “Who will challenge me?” Since no one appeared to have any quarrel with the new king at that moment, the knight received a cup of
silver and with a clatter of hoofs, rode out. Between the second and third courses, guests rose to relieve themselves or stretch their legs, and Kate looked about her for a familiar face. She was not disappointed, for across the hall and in deep conversation with the duke of Buckingham was Richard Haute. She idly wondered why Richard would be so intimate with the duke, forgetting that as the duke was lord of Tunbridge Castle and its hundreds of acres close to Ightham, Haute was Buckingham’s vassal. She could not cross the hall unescorted and interrupt the two men, so she was content to know he was there and, except for his now white hair, appeared well.

“Mother! There you are. I have searched high and low.” John was bowing to her, his dark hair capped with a jaunty hat of blue velvet. She kissed him happily and clasped his hands in hers.

“My son. I, too, have looked for you. I hope you are not becoming a popinjay; you appear to have unlimited funds for your wardrobe,” Kate teased him, drinking in every handsome inch of him.

“Mother! I am no more popinjay than my father. So what if we both enjoy fine clothes. ’Tis not a sin.” He grinned at her. “Do not chide me today, I beg of you. ’Tis far too thrilling an occasion for a sermon from my mother. Today I want her adoration.”

“You have it, John. I was never prouder of you than now,” Kate assured him. “Though there was another time—on the road to Fotheringhay. But you may not remember.”

“I shall remember it to my dying day. How I hated you for leaving me, and yet Father painted such a picture of what was in store for me, I could not hate you for long. Now I have to thank you for your generosity. The Lady Anne—I mean her grace, the queen—told me one evening the sacrifice you had made in giving up your children so we might have a better chance in life. Katherine and I have spoken of it with gratitude. You should know we speak of you often and always with love, dear Mother.”

It was a long speech and heartfelt, and Kate gripped his hands hard to prevent tears forming. She was astonished that Anne had delivered such a homily and was puzzled again by the coldness with which she had first been received. A fanfare heralded the entrance of the next delicacies. John kissed her quickly and hurried back to his place with the other henchmen. She watched him go with pride, her spirits high. Her children
had forgiven her. She had not known her heart had assumed a heavy guilt, but upon hearing John’s declaration, she felt a release like a bird from a cage. She sat down on her bench again and chattered on like a giddy girl for the rest of the feast. The torches and flambeaux were lit as the summer evening fell into night. Richard and Anne stood to greet their subjects one last time and slowly descended the steps, passed through the jostling crowd, under an arch and on to their royal apartments.

Jack was obliged to stay at the palace, as the festivities surrounding the coronation would continue on the morrow. However, Margaret had expressed a need for her own bed, so she and John Bourchier led the Howard party outside into the still night. The palace jetty was jammed with private and public boats being hailed by guests returning to the city. In the torchlight, Bourchier spotted the Howard lions on the canopy over Jack’s barge and called to the boatman. As they waited on shore, Kate turned back to catch a final glimpse of the imposing outline of the abbey—now a dark etching in the starry sky—that had seen yet another English king crowned in its sacred space.

“Why, Kate—Kate Haute, ’tis indeed you, by my troth!” A ringing voice found its way to her, and her face broke into a happy smile of recognition.

“Richard! Cousin Richard! Where are you?” Kate looked right and left, but as small as she was, she could not see past the person in front of her. Richard Haute’s large frame finally blocked her view as he smothered her in his fond embrace. He released her, drew Elizabeth forward and presented the women to each other.

“God give you greeting, mistress.” Elizabeth’s deep voice was warm and friendly. “I had given up on meeting you. I am right glad to see you.”

“And I, my lady.” Kate smiled at Richard’s tall second wife. Her skin was like milk, the beautiful brown eyes startling with her flaxen hair. “It gives me pleasure to see Cousin Richard looking so hale, and I am sure, madam, you must take the credit.”

Elizabeth was surprised by Kate’s forthrightness, but Richard laughed. “I warned you about Kate, Bess.” He was looking at Kate but took his wife’s hand and pressed it to his lips.

Kate became aware that the rest of her party had disappeared and she
looked anxious. “Forgive me, my lady, dear cousin. I must not miss my boat. I must go.”

“Do not fret. I can see the Howard barge is still docked,” Richard said, looking over several heads in front of them. “You must visit us soon. Anne’s boys are Geoffrey’s best pupils, you can be assured of that.”

“And the other boys? Do they all go on well together?” Kate tossed off the question.

“Aye, they are all good boys. Your nephew, Dickon, is learning Latin, but he is happiest when he has something to carve. A real talent, Kate, a real talent,” Richard said, and Kate’s heart sang at news of Dickon. “Geoff is a good master, and that little wife of his is a second mother to the boys.”

“Aye, ’tis a happy arrangement. But now, if you will forgive me, I can keep Margaret waiting no longer.” Kate hurried to the jetty and climbed into the waiting boat.

“A friend of yours, Kate?” Margaret asked. “I do not believe I recognize him.”

“My cousin, Richard Haute. I should have presented him, but—”

“Did he give you news?” Margaret cut her short. The others in the boat were half asleep and did not pay attention to the two women snuggled together in the stern of the barge. Kate quite forgot she was exchanging confidences with the wife of the duke of Norfolk, who, after Buckingham and Suffolk, was now the highest noble in the land.

“He did, Margaret. He told me my ‘nephew’ Dickon was learning to read Latin and that he has a talent for carving.”

“In truth, both those skills may be useful when he is older, depending on circumstances,” Margaret said with a chuckle. “He could go into the church—or build one.”

Kate trailed her fingers in the water and went over and over her cousin’s meager morsel of news, trying to picture her son poring over a Latin text and whittling away at a piece of wood. Her heart ached to see Dickon in the flesh, but with Richard as king, revealing all to the boy seemed remoter than ever. Best left alone, she thought for the millionth time. She gazed at the stars and fancied the hundreds of bobbing lights from other boats were their reflection in the inky waters.

*   *   *

T
HE COURT CELEBRATED
for six more days at Westminster and then moved to Greenwich Palace, from where Richard would begin his progress, showing himself to his people up and down the country.

Kate found herself in a boat once more, but this time it conveyed her downstream from Stepney to Greenwich. The flat marshlands of the Isle of Dogs contrasted strangely with the wooded hills on the Kent side of the river. The river was teeming with wildlife: white herons strode elegantly through the rushes, an otter played in and out of the water, fallow deer stood like statues on the edge of the forest, and a flock of swans swam sentinel in front of the boat. Half a mile from it, Kate had her first glimpse of the palace gleaming white between the trees. When the boatman turned towards the pier, she saw why Elizabeth Woodville had enjoyed her Palace of Placentia more than all the other royal residences. Built only fifty years previously, it had the most modern of amenities and its façade was less forbidding than older castles. A retainer in the royal livery helped Kate out of the boat at the water steps of the state entrance to the royal apartments and escorted her to an antechamber on an upper floor. She sat in a sunny room overlooking the river with a gentleman usher for company and waited. From the pouch at her waist, she drew the letter she had received the day before. The royal seal was massive, but the familiar lettering was as economical as always. She re-read it to pass the time.

“’Tis with a great happiness that I write to inform you of Katherine’s pre-contract with William Herbert, now earl of Huntingdon. The formal marriage will take place sometime in the next year, when Katherine is fifteen, and I will bear the cost. I trust you will come to us at Greenwich to felicitate our daughter and meet Herbert. She is well pleased with my choice, I believe. God’s greeting to you, Richard R.”

“R?” she had asked Margaret.

“Rex.
’Tis Latin for king.”

Richard’s letter did not give a curious woman enough information, she thought. At least, the impression it left was that the earl was not an old man, like Thomas Draper. If Katherine was well pleased with
Richard’s choice, there was hope of contentment in the marriage for the girl, Kate decided.

A door in the paneling that she had not noticed opened silently. Richard’s voice startled her into dropping the letter to the floor.

“You may leave us, James,” he said to the usher, who bowed low. As the man did as he was commanded, Richard bent to retrieve the letter. He grinned when he recognized it.

“Kate, ’tis good to see you once more, and so soon.” She attempted to give him obeisance, but he stayed her. “Nay, sweet lady, too much has passed between us for you to kneel before me. In public I must accept it, but here, with none to witness us, ’twould be false pride on my part.” He took her hand and kissed it. “You look well. I confess, widow’s weeds do become you.”

“Fiddle-faddle, Richard! I look like a hag, in truth. But ’tis gallant of you to say so.” She smiled at him. “If we are being frank with each other, I must tell you that you look tired. Nay, worn out would be closer to the truth. Are you well, my love—your pardon, ’tis force of habit,”—she stumbled over her faux pas—“I meant ‘my lord,’ to be sure.”

He responded by putting his finger to her lips as he used to do whenever he felt she was overly talkative. She thought for moment he might kiss her, which usually followed the gesture, but he stood back quickly. She saw anxiety in his eyes and knew at once that he had been tempted. She could not know how often he longed for her, despite his affection for Anne. She hoped her eyes told him that she had never stopped loving him.

He cleared his throat. “Sit, Kate, and I will tell you how it is with me. I cannot take too long. One of the banes of my life now is the lack of privacy. The king’s body seems to belong to everyone but the king.” He chuckled, but then his face settled back into the anxious, hardened expression Kate had seen at the abbey. “I bounce between joy at my new status and despair because of it. Certes, Jack must have told you of the circumstances . . .” Kate nodded, her face serious, as he went on, “I swear to you, Kate, ’twas not in my mind until that day Stillington came with his tale-telling of Edward’s pre-contract with another woman before Elizabeth. My heart sank into my boots, for I knew at once what the outcome would be. It would mean the quiet life Anne and I had grown to
love at Middleham would be finished. It would mean I would never know who my real friends or my enemies might be. As Lord of the North—a name I was given and quite liked, if the truth be known—I knew who was on my side and who was not. Northumberland—now there is a fence-straddler, and I would swear Thomas Stanley’s backside is full of splinters from sitting one also—will always be a riddle for me. For the rest, ’twas black and white. They were with me, which meant they were with Edward, or they were not. ’Twas easy to govern the council of the north, and in all modesty, I think I did it well.”

He paused, forgetting in his need to unburden himself that Kate was ignorant of much of this information. She gave him her undivided attention just as she used to, relishing for the first time in years being privy to his innermost thoughts. Memories of conversations in the firelight over supper and after lovemaking crowded her mind. It warmed her to the core, and she savored every moment.

“I swore fealty to young Edward. I swore before God to discharge my duty as protector to the best of my ability. I can only imagine the gossip in the taverns up and down the country when it became known I was to wear the crown. I could not sleep for many nights, and I had nightmares of Edward returning from the grave to denounce me as a usurper. Maybe you see those sleepless, careworn nights on my face, Kate. Anne upbraids me, too, and she is unhappy to be queen, in truth. She is a simple soul, Kate, and too vulnerable. In many ways, you would be more suited to be a queen. You have the forbearance.”

For once Kate let him ramble on, for he could count on her loyalty.

“I cannot deny the exhilaration I felt when Buckingham came to Baynard and offered me the crown. I did not feel like a usurper. It was the wish of Parliament, of the people. How could I refuse? Certes, I felt sorry for those boys, although I have to admit young Edward is a weak boy and more Woodville than Plantagenet. ’Twas not their fault their father’s brain went soft when his pestle was hard—and pray do not play the innocent with me, lady!” Richard saw Kate’s raised eyebrow and laughed. “But the law is the law. You cannot deny the thrill of hearing an entire city shout your name to the heavens. Every moment of that day in the abbey will be frozen in time for me. I swear to you I felt God’s presence all about me. I know I am the rightful king, by the grace of
God. . . .” His voice was cracking, and he fidgeted with his ring as he spoke.