Death Be Pardoner To Me: The Life of George, Duke of Clarence (14 page)

The late summer air was soft; the flowerbeds were in the last stage of their showy splendour. George walked slowly, breathing in the mixed scents of the flowers and the heavily fruiting trees. Wasps buzzed angrily around the windfalls rotting in the grass. ‘I need to speak with someone to clear these.” He gestured toward the fallen fruit. “I dislike to see it lie so.”

“Your Grace has not bothered before,” Durian commented. “I still cannot understand what has changed in you, sire, but something has. I would have wagered the news of your brother the king’s marriage would have shaken Your Grace to the core.”

Only Durian and Peke had the freedom to speak this freely to George and they took advantage of it in moments of privacy, ensuring that at all other times they spoke with due deference.

George turned to look into the candid blue eyes of his trusted Fool. “It did,” he admitted. “But then I recalled the plans of my cousin of Warwick and I would bid you find out for me whether he would appreciate my approaching him at this time.”

Durian’s eyes widened as he took in the implications of the thought. Then he smiled. “Now I see the plan! Of a surety you are wiser than your years, sire! Of course! You have been put to one side and so has the Earl. What a match the two of you will make, if you would but be able to work together!”

“This I need to find out.”

“That is not the only reason why you found pleasure in simple food today, sire.”

“No, it is not. I confess I have asked Peke to find me a woman for the night.”

“Tis more than time you stepped into the world of women, sire! I congratulate you and wish you much – pleasure!”

George flushed bright red with embarrassment which made Durian laugh. “For a young man with such confidence, such arrogance, if I may be permitted to say that, sire, I am surprised that it has taken you this long to decide to request a woman.”

“For your ears alone, Durian, and none other, this is nothing more than an act. Beneath this confidence, this arrogance which you see, there is a person who fears nothing more than failing at anything. Hence my decision to wait until I was sure I could take a woman and not fail dismally at it, for fear of never being able to attempt it again.”

Durian nodded. “Of a surety you make sense, sire. It is not all physical when it comes to women, there is a good deal of mental effort involved, too. First you must be sure of yourself and second you must be sure of your body. The time has come when those two are together in harmony. I see that now. I see that the time is right and your reaction to the news of your brother the king’s taking of a wife has triggered that moment. His many dalliances have not had the same effect.” He smiled knowingly. “If food tasted good today, I wonder how it will taste tomorrow to Your Grace?” he murmured.

George grinned. “If the woman is good then it matters little what the food tastes like tomorrow. I know only I will be of equal standing with my brother the king by this time tomorrow in that I will no longer be virgin.” His body jerked in anticipation at the thought and he smothered a laugh.

Ned, he thought, whatever you can do, I can do, apart from wear the Crown of England but then, there is much else in this life I can do – and I will! Of a surety I will!

Chapter 14

Of all my memories, that night remains one of the clearest, as if preserved forever in glass and kept, to be turned about and around, to be viewed from every angle and forever cherished.

I had, many times, found relief for myself from the pressing needs of the developing man, visualising without knowledge what a woman’s body was beneath shift, bodice, skirt and petticoats. I had only the very vaguest idea of what it would look like and no amount of talk among stable lads, varlets or squires could prepare me for the reality.

She came, the one Peke found for me, shyly and hesitantly, not bold and assertive. That I liked, that I appreciated. I found her comely, with dark brown hair which she unbound and which fell in ripples to her very hips. She had dark eyes which held promise of delights without speaking of them and lips which were red enough to have been rouged or bitten to highlight them.

“Your Grace.” Her curtsey was submissive indeed, no arrogance, no surety of purpose there, just the quiet acceptance of the difference in our status. I liked that, too.

“Your name?” I asked her.

“Pentecost, Your Grace, Pentecost Green.”

I recall my body being ready long before she ever arrived, I remember being afeared it would all end too quickly before I even got as far as the clothes coming off. I remember swallowing hard as I bolted the door against all interruptions and watched as she slowly removed layer after layer. I did nothing; I could do nothing but watch, entranced. When she was naked it was a revelation. I never imagined anything so sensual, so enchanting or mysterious as the slender body, the full breasts and the hidden magic of the join of thighs. She spoke not a word as she helped me remove my tunic, hose and braies and just smiled as she saw I was ready.

Somehow we tumbled onto the down mattress and somehow she was beneath me and somehow she guided me and in a few seconds I knew the magic of woman. Silk, softness, slippery channel and oh, the sensations!

In all the remainder of my life I never had a night such as that, not even with the one who loved me so and with whom I found comfort and solace. I found it not for this was the first time and nothing can ever be as good or as wonderful as the first time, whether it be the first kill in a hunt, the first kiss, the first time in battle with the blood roaring and the metal clashing and the death song singing in your ears. That was my first time and as such was forever to remain wonderful. She taught me much, that patient loving Pentecost, how to hold back, how to pleasure, how to kiss, how to caress, what parts were sensitive and how to arouse them. Of a surety that girl/woman knew much and yet she was as tight and flawless as a virgin. How much do women know by instinct and how much do they gain by experience? I know not where Peke found her and I know not where she lived or what she thought of our night of passion. I know I have never forgotten Pentecost Green and I carry her memory with me and will do so until the moment comes when the door shuts on this life.

I slept, I think, and woke to find long dark hair entangled around my arms and my fingers clutching a creamy breast. Of necessity I had to let her go, for there was discreet knocking at my bedchamber door and I knew another day had begun. The sun was well risen and it was long overdue that I should be up and about my day’s business.

She dressed and left with a curtsey, a smile, a kiss and a bag of gold which she had well earned.

And I was left with memories which have never deserted me.

It is too late now to ask someone to find her, to know if she still remembers that night which meant so much to me but which may not have meant that much to her. It is too late for me to ask for another woman at this time, for thinking of her has provoked a reaction I did not expect, crippled as I am with drink and pain and anxiety and apprehension, if not pure outright fear. Ah, only to the shades which surround me will I admit to fear. To everyone else I must remain the proud duke, allow no one to know that for me there is fear as I walk into the valley of death. The Lord may well be with me but that does not stop the fear.

I faced a new life with new confidence.

I spoke with bitterness of the new Queen’s family to those I trusted but to her face I smiled and was polite and escorted her into Reading Abbey along with the earl of Warwick and presented her as Queen. I worked with my brother the king on the preparations for her coronation. I dared not do otherwise; I depended upon his patronage until such time as I had sufficient lands and income of my own. It was important I stayed within his goodwill at all times. Without his patronage, how could a proud duke remain proud and live a life that demanded money? A household does not run itself without finance and I needed both clothes and jewellery to present the right appearance to the world.

I also needed a vast amount of people to take care of me. Not as many, I do believe, as that of the king himself, for his household was virtually an army of servants, labourers of all kinds but of a surety I needed people to clean, cook, wash, tend my needs, take care of my body and my soul. I needed entertaining, confessing, praying over and escorting as I travelled from place to place. I needed my own virtual army to take care of me. I needed people tend my animals, my stable, my livestock. All those people employed to care for one person! I thought how important I was to have so many in my employ and that did not include those who were my informants throughout the land, in every place where I needed to know who thought what and who spoke what, even if I did not use the information at that time. I needed it, I garnered it as a farmer garnered his harvest and stored it for the cold times ahead.

How did I know there would be cold times ahead?

Chapter 15

Winter dragged on, Christmas revels were held and everywhere the Wydevilles were making their presence known, taking on this role and that, seemingly incapable of standing back and allowing the court to absorb them. Rather they seemed to work to absorb the court and the king was kept busy allocating marriages, positions, estates and finances to his queen’s family.

The coronation plans proceeded smoothly, with George taking an integral role in the proceedings. At times he even enjoyed the challenge of making so many complex and oft times conflicting arrangements for the event.

Quietly and discreetly Durian came with snippets of information from all around the country, how the people spoke against the Wydevilles, how they feared that their king would be so taken by the enchantress that he would forget he belonged to the people first and his queen second and her family third if at all. They spoke of the anger of Warwick, how the people spoke in jest now of the kingmaker who had not been able to control a king he had made and laughed at his frustration and impotence. Some derided the earl for not producing sons but this George dismissed; no one can order the child they so long for and daughters can make dynasties, after all, married to the right person in the right position at the right time.

At times George wondered what sort of person he wanted for his wife and helpmeet. He observed Ned at close quarters and knew him to be obsessed with his beautiful wife but still unable to remain faithful. A wench passing him by with a smile and a cheeky wink would ensure that he sent a page or a squire to seek her out and bring her to his bedchamber. George had vowed in a solemn pledge in the chapel at court that once married he would honour the vows he made, no matter the provocation, no matter the temptation. He knew his brother Richard would be the same, knew it without even discussing it with him on the rare occasions they saw one another.

As far as he was concerned, meeting up with Richard now was almost like meeting a stranger. Dickon was growing up fast under the tutelage of the many tutors at Middleham and was changing into a young man with an even more serious outlook on life than he had displayed when sharing his formative years with George. Occasionally a flicker of laughter would cross the dark eyes but this was rare and worthy of being noted in some great journal, so few times did it ever happen. George loved to laugh and kept Durian close to him when he could so they could indulge in hilarity to lift the days, which that winter seemed endlessly dark and long. It was almost as if he was waiting for something, anything, to break the monotony of the life he was leading.

“It is like my days and weeks and endless years at Fotheringhay over again,” he complained to Durian one day when the rain lashed down and deterred even the boldest person or wolfhound from venturing out into the inclement weather. Durian raised his expressive eyebrows at his master and waited for him to elaborate. George kicked the log in the great hearth and muttered curses against the rain. “I thought at times I would never escape Fotheringhay ennui and here I am, enduring London ennui instead!’

“But surely in greater comfort and with greater control than you had before, sire,” Durian pointed out with superb logic.

“True words,” agreed George, “but ennui remains the same, does it not?”

“Then I must of necessity find a way to distract Your Grace. May I suggest a game of Tables?”

“No, you may not, Durian! I swear by all that is sacred you will be able to retire to a mansion in the country surrounded by many women and every comfort to last you to the end of your days with the money you have won from me this winter alone! God’s teeth, do you have Lucifer helping you with the dice?”

“No, I do not, sire, I just have a degree of luck.”

“More than luck,” George grumbled. With an effort he got to his feet and shouted for a squire to set his minstrels singing and the musicians to play before wandering off to the garderobe, leaving Durian alone by the fire.

I need a wife George told himself in the few moments he was alone, that in itself being a rare occasion. I need a wife to tend to my needs. A Fool is all very well and I could not manage my affairs without Durian’s sharp ears and equally sharp mind but I need a wife, a consort, someone to take on the running of the household, someone to understand my needs, to be there when I want to –

I do not endlessly want to arrange for someone to share my bed, for all that it is exciting to have someone different each time. I want –