FLAME OF DESIRE (40 page)

“He is wrong. I know that he is. Richard Morgan is no traitor,” Tabitha whispered, stepping out of the shadows. Wiping her hands upon her apron, she sought to calm Heather’s frazzled nerves. “Perriwincle saw what happened. Why won’t someone believe him?”

Heather picked up a long spoon to stir the soup, swishing it about with such strong strokes that it splashed onto the kitchen floor. “Because he is a stable-keeper. His word is as nothing against such testimony as Hugh Seton’s or Catherine Todd’s. There was such confusion that day that there is no one who can come forth and say for certain that Richard was not fighting on the side of the rebels. Richard’s trial is coming up soon and I can do nothing but stand by and wait.”

“They will not let you see him?” Tabitha’s voice held a great pity.

“No. The queen has forbidden it, though I do not think she realizes how cruel she is being in denying me.”

Tabitha looked shyly at the floor, not wanting to seem overbold. “If it is the queen who stands in your way, why not go to her and make her see that Richard could not be guilty in this matter?”

“The queen hates me now. It would do no good.” Heather stopped stirring for a moment, remembering how angry the queen had been in just the short span of time she had talked with her in Whitehall. Of course there had been danger then.

“You must try,” Tabitha mumbled.

Heather pondered the matter. “If I were to throw myself on her mercy, beg her to at least listen to reason, what harm could it do? Stephen has talked with her, Anne Fairfax has reasoned with her, and now I will go to see her.” Stephen had sent for Richard’s brother and the Spanish emissary, Mendosa, but with winter engulfing the land just now, it could take weeks for them to arrive. Tossing the spoon aside, Heather clenched her fists in determination.

“I will do it! Let her frown and snarl at me, I do not care. She will listen to what I have to say. She must.” Looking over at Tabitha, she could see that the servant girl was smiling and it struck her that despite her shyness, Tabitha seemed to have an inner strength, the ability to gently prod one into doing what was necessary.

Taking off her apron, straightening her hair, Heather readied herself to go before Mary. It was now or never, for time was of the essence; every moment that Richard spent in the Tower meant more danger for him, more confirmation of his supposed guilt.

Dressed in a plain dark blue woolen gown, her hair drawn back in a bun, a thick cloak thrown over her shoulders, Heather walked through the mud and snow to Whitehall. She had not bothered to change her clothes, reasoning that to appear plain and dowdy just might wipe away her “harlot” image in the queen’s eyes. She would plead for Richard as friend, not lover.

Walking up the steep steps of the palace, she whispered over and over the words she would use to soften Mary’s heart. Pushing past the guards, several of who recognized her from her Greenwich stay, she entered the hall.

“Why, if it isn’t the merchant’s daughter,” a familiar voice purred. Catherine Todd, hovering as always before a mirror. “Have you come to sell us more of your father’s cloth?” The hall twittered with laughter.

“I have come to see the queen,” Heather answered, holding her head high and ignoring the malice in the green-eyed beauty’s voice.

“The queen?” Catherine Todd walked around Heather, eyeing her up and down with a mocking smile. Her eyes did not miss Heather’s plain garments. “You wish to see the queen? Have you an appointment, merchant’s daughter?” She turned to her companions. “It appears to me that
she
has need of a cloth merchant. Dressed as she is, she would do better to come before a baker than a queen. Of course, keeping the company she has of late, perhaps she has fallen onto hard times.” She lowered her voice and hissed, “Traitor’s whore!”

It took every fiber of Heather’s being to maintain calm, to keep from striking out at the woman with the vicious tongue. It could only harm Richard to create a scene. “It is not for you to judge me, Catherine Todd. God alone decides what evil we have done. As for me, I would rather stand in my shoes on judgment day than in yours. And as to traitors, I know of none, I only remember a man who risked his life for his queen and his country. Can you say as much for what you have done?”

“I have done nothing,” Catherine Todd retorted.

“That is exactly the point,” Heather answered, stepping past the brightly clad woman. Announcing herself to Mary’s guards, she waited until they beckoned to her, and then entered the presence of the queen.

Mary seemed to have aged overnight. Her face, always pale and drawn, now seemed nearly white and much thinner. Sitting in a chair at the farthest corner of the large room, she eyed Heather without even a hint of a welcome. “Well?” was all she said.

Heather fell to her knees before the queen, bowing her head in a gracious gesture of humility. “I come to beg mercy and justice from a wise and worthy ruler,” Heather began.

“I know what you would have of me, that I release your lover.” The queen’s voice was harsh, and Heather had no doubt that the expression matched the tone.

“My friend and your loyal servant,” Heather said adamantly. “Your Majesty.”

“What games are you playing with me?” The words were shrill. “Oh, do get up. How I hate to talk to someone groveling before me.”

Heather rose to her feet, looking the queen square in the face. “I play no games, my queen. I merely come to seek justice for one who has always been loyal to you. Richard Morgan.”

The queen’s eyes blazed with fury. “Richard Morgan, Richard Morgan, Richard Morgan. He was once my friend and my most trusted adviser, but like all the others in my life that I have cherished, he too has betrayed me. It was Thomas Wyatt’s side that he was on when delivered into the hands of this justice you talk about.”

“No. He would never seek to betray England, nor you. My servant tells me that he was worried after my safety and riding back to London to see to my well-being. Can a man be called a traitor to show concern for another?”

“I have heard testimony of those who would call him traitor and deny your words, child.” It had been so long since Mary had called her “child.” For just a moment Heather had hopes that perhaps Mary had given her forgiveness.

“They are mistaken. False words do not make facts. Remember, your Majesty, how valiantly Richard, your servant, fought for you, even suffering a near-mortal wound to bring your letter to those who would fight your enemies and declare you rightful queen.” Heather’s eyes did not flicker. “As you needed him then, he needs you now, to fight against his enemies, those who would seek to bring him harm.”

Mary Tudor reached for her cross, fingering it as if it would help her know the truth. For just a moment her expression softened and she looked like the gentle queen again, but just as quickly her expression turned grim.

“They have all betrayed me. Courtenay. Richard. Wyatt. Even my own sister, Elizabeth. I do not know whom to trust. I only know that I cannot risk harm coming to this land again. There must be no more strife, no more battles. I must make England safe for Philip, so that we can rule together in peace. I must wipe away all who defy God’s will in bringing us back to Rome.” A flush spread over her face. “He desires me and loves me, this Philip, though I am over eleven years his senior. Together we will bring forth an heir to unite England’s future.”

“And Richard will help you make this a peaceful land. He has always counseled you wisely, has he not?” Heather took a step forward, her arms outstretched, imploring.

“Yes, he has always been most wise.” The tone of her voice was gentle, as if she remembered all the times when he had been at her side. “Perhaps I should at least hear him out in this matter. I am ever a just queen.”

“As well as a wise queen.” Heather scarcely dared to breathe. Was it possible that Mary would change her mind concerning Richard’s guilt? Surely if she at least heard Richard’s story, all would be well.

“Ah, if it is not my dear betrothed. Do you seek mercy for your lover’s treachery? If so, you are well wasting your time.” It was Hugh Seton’s voice and Heather shivered at the thought of his presence. He swept into the room with the air of one very sure of himself.

Heather stood up, facing him. “I am here to speak with the queen and not with you.”

His smile was a snarl. “The queen listens to me in all maters; therefore you
will
need talk with me.”

Heather turned toward the queen. “Richard will never get a fair hearing from this man. His hatred runs too deep. Please, your Majesty, let us speak of this matter alone.”

The anger had now returned to Mary’s face, no doubt at the reminder of what Richard and Heather had done. Hugh Seton now appeared to be the wronged party, a man wounded deeply by the heartlessness of the woman he was to have married. “Hugh Seton will stay. He
does
have a say in this matter. And as to his hatred, I would say that it is warranted.” Her eyes flashed at Heather in warning to keep silent. Turning to Hugh Seton, she asked, “You will give him a fair hearing, will you not?”

He bowed gallantly. “Despite my wounded heart, I have pondered this matter of Morgan most deeply. I have prayed for guidance fervently, and God has spoken to me. I will admit that Morgan has in the past been a steadfast pillar of strength, but Satan is ever the evil tempter leading men into sin and betrayal.” He cast his eyes toward Heather as if saying that she was the instrument by which the devil had worked. “Thomas Wyatt also has been up to this time a loyal subject, but he too must be punished for his treachery. They are of like kind, my dearest queen. Let them live, and like the serpents of hell, they will tear the realm apart with their poisonous fangs.”

The queen gasped and cradled her hands at her breasts. Seton’s speech had clearly undone all that Heather had tried to do. Beneath her breath Heather cursed the man, knowing the fiery sting of hatred.

Seton continued, coming in for the kill. “I ask that in your wisdom you see fit to execute those who seek England’s downfall. Make them an example before all who would seek to harm thy royal personage. Only then can we have a strong and peaceful future.”

“No!” Heather cried out, her knees trembling, her pulse pounding. “Richard is innocent. He is not a traitor. He is not. He is not. He has never sought England’s downfall, only her glory.” She touched the hem of the queen’s gown in supplication. “Please, your Majesty. Please.”

But Mary was not of a mind to offer mercy. Her temper broke as she remembered how close she had come to losing her crown and her life. Years of misery and mistreatment now boiled over like a caldron. All of her gentleness now turned to fury, her affection for Richard Morgan to rage at his supposed betrayal. “He will stand trial at this same time on the morrow. Richard Morgan will be judged by men for his early misdeed, and may God forgive him for his sins.”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Heather closed the door to her bedroom behind her, reaching up to draw the folds of her cloak securely around her.

“Where are you going?” The sound of the voice startled her.

“Tabitha!” she said, whirling around. It was a relief to see that it was the tall blond servant girl, for had it been her mother, there might have been a scene. “I’m going to the Tower to see Richard. Even the queen herself cannot keep me from him now.”

“The Tower? You must be insane to attempt such a thing!” Tabitha blushed at the boldness of her words.

“Perhaps there are those who would call me so. Others would call me a woman in love,” Heather answered with a sad smile.

“You may well sacrifice your own freedom just for a moment with him.”

“I would sacrifice my very life! I love him.” Heather walked toward the stairs with Tabitha following behind. At the top of the stairs Heather paused to look into Tabitha’s wide blue eyes. “It is a thing which I must do.”

Tabitha looked at her in awe. “I have always thought you the most beautiful of women, but never have I admired you as much as I do now. I can only hope that someday I will feel such a love as this.”

“I hope that you will. It makes life worth the living.” She thought a moment, then said, Come with me, Tabitha. At least as far as the Tower entrance. Please.”

“I would be proud to come with you, Heather. Besides, they will be on the lookout for one woman, not two. Two servants should be able to sneak past the guards.” She hurried up the stairs to her own quarters, and when she came back she too was wearing a hooded cloak.

The dark gray shadows of the clouds clung to the moon as if to the arms of a lover as Heather and Tabitha walked along. Dressed in dark brown and black, their hoods hiding their faces, they seemed to blend with the night.

I know that even if this meeting with Richard is but brief, it is well worth the risk,
Heather thought. To see Richard before the ordeal of his trial was an all-consuming desire. One sweet moment of ecstasy that might well have to last forever. But she would not think of that now.

The sight of the grim gray fortress rose before them and Heather remembered another time when she had trod this same path. Another time long ago. A lifetime ago.

“The Tower,” she whispered, wondering how many other women had loved ones imprisoned there. It was said that no one ever escaped from its dungeons. Only death or a pardon would bring a man beyond its walls. But if she could help Richard escape, she would, she vowed. “Though my very own life be forfeit.”

There were many other towers besides the White Tower—the Bloody Tower, Constable Tower, Bowyer Tower, the Salt Tower. In which one was Richard imprisoned? She wondered.

As they approached the river, Heather could smell its dankness. Her heart leapt with the thought of laying eyes once again upon the man she loved. So long since she had seen him, so very long. Nearly eternity, it seemed.

They neared the doors to the fortress and banged upon the door, to be met by a guard who gruffly asked their business.

“We are faithful servants of the prisoner Richard Morgan,” Tabitha stated, holding forth a basket of food in front of her, which Heather had prepared. “His trial is tomorrow and we have brought food for him.”