The Border Lord's Bride (53 page)

She had said it hadn‘t happened. Why hadn‘t he believed her? She had never proven

untrustworthy.

Why, when Johnston had, with his dying breath, accused her of whoring with Sir Roger, had Duncan Armstrong believed him? Because he was dying, and presumably would not go to God with a foul lie on his conscience? Why had he believed a man who had turned traitor to his country? A man who had beaten his wife to death, and then lied about it? A man who had tried to murder his king? The laird of Duffdour had taken the word of a creature like that over the sweetest and truest woman he had ever known. A woman he adored. He deserved Ellen‘s scorn.

What he didn‘t know was how he was ever going to get her to forgive him for being a jealous fool. Quietly he departed the hall for his bed.

Ellen played badly, for she was still angry, and when the king beat her three games in a row she sighed. "I cannot concentrate upon the game tonight, my lord. Forgive me for being such a bad partner."

James Stewart reached out and took her hand in his. "He feels worse than you do, my bonny.

Jealousy is what caused him to behave the way he did. We men are ever fools over the women we love."

"I know," Ellen responded, "but to have asked the man such a question as he lay dying. And before a hall full of strangers too! I have never given Duncan Armstrong any reason to mistrust me, my good lord. I would have killed myself before I allowed any man to dishonor me and my husband‘s name. But Duncan did not trust me. A good marriage must be based upon trust, my lord. Love, passion—these change. But trust stays firm." Her eyes filled with tears. "And I love him. I shall never love another."

"Then you must forgive him, my bonny," the king advised.

"My lord, you are yet young, and know little of women except how pleasant they can be when you kiss them or bed them. A woman must be trusted by the man she loves. Without trust all else fades away. It will be a while before I can forgive Duncan. He will have to earn both my love and my trust all over again," Ellen said sadly.

"Let me divert you briefly from your sorrows, then, my bonny," the king said to her. "Remember I promised you that I should tell you all I know of the true king of England? Would it please you to hear the tale now? And when you see her you may tell Adair Radcliffe this story if you would.

Or not."

"Aye, I should like to hear what you have learned," Ellen said eagerly. She had to admit that she was very curious about the young man who had caused such a stir at court, was causing her own king such expense, and was causing King Henry great distress. And she did need to be turned from her own troubles. "Who is he really?"

"My spies have been out and about in Flanders, France, and Burgundy, ferreting out all the information that they could," James Stewart began. "It is a most interesting tale. I have not a doubt that at this point in his existence the true king actually believes this fabricated legend that has been woven about him."

"Wait," Ellen said. She removed the game pieces from the board and put them back into their carved box. Then, rising, she went to the sideboard, returning with a small carafe of her husband‘s own whiskey. She poured a generous dram into the king‘s empty goblet. Even Ellen knew that a man with a good tale to tell told it better with a well-lubricated throat.

The king grinned appreciatively, and drank some of the whiskey down.

"Now, begin," his pretty hostess said.

"It is highly possible there is Plantagenet blood running in his veins," James Stewart said. "But where that blood comes into the picture is a moot point. His resemblance to the last of the Yorkist kings and their family is so strong that it was first thought he was a son of King Edward‘s younger brother, George, Duke of Clarence, or a bastard of King Richard the Third. As there was a lot of back-and-forth between England, France, and the low countries during their dynastic struggles, it is highly possible that several bastards were fathered by that family. We shall never really know, my bonny.

"Our true king was born in the town of Tournai in Flanders. His father is listed in the town records as one Jehan de Werbecque, a man of good blood, but no means. He toiled as a civil servant. Our true king‘s mother was one Katherine de Faro. Her son was baptized Perkin de Werbecque. He was sent away with a wet nurse to the house of a cousin in Antwerp, one Jehan Stienbecks, when he was barely a year. This leads me to believe that while he bears Jehan de Werbecque‘s name, he is not his natural-born son. De Werbecque may have married her as a favor to someone to save her reputation, or it is possible she was already his wife in fact, or at least betrothed to him. It seems odd to me that a man would send his firstborn son away as a wee bairn."

"If the child was not his," Ellen suggested, "perhaps he could not bear the sight of him. After all, he gave the lad his name, saving him from ignominy, but having his wife‘s dishonorable behavior before him daily may have proved too much. Would not most men continue to wonder about a wife‘s faithfulness under such circumstances?"

"Aye," the king agreed, "it would be difficult, particularly if she had already been his wife. She is fortunate he didn‘t kill her."

"So Perkin was raised in Antwerp," Ellen said, now using the pretender‘s real name.

"He was, and put to work by the time he was six years of age as a boy servant, and we have traced several of his employers. He served in the household of one John Strewe, a fairly successful English merchant. It is in that employ that he probably learned his English. This allowed him to gain a position in the household of Lady Brampton, the widow of a known Yorkist sympathizer. He went with her to Portugal. In Portugal he left Lady Brampton. Her funds were limited, and she could probably not afford to keep a large staff. A boy servant would, of course, been dispensable and let go. But she may have seen to him by first finding our true king employment with a Portuguese knight, one Vaz da Cunha. But obviously the man did not suit him, for he is next found in Cork, in Ireland, employed by a silk merchant, Pierre Jean Meno."

"He has certainly lived a most interesting and varied life," Ellen noted, "yet I cannot help but feel sorry for him. He has known no love, only servitude and pretense."

"Katherine Gordon loves him," the king noted dryly.

"Forgive me, my dear lord, but Katherine Gordon loves the idea of being queen of England,"

Ellen responded. "She is a proud woman, as I well remember from my time in your good aunt‘s household. On the rare occasions she had to speak with me she would not even look at me. Still, she has my sympathy, for this will end badly for her, I fear."

James Stewart had the good grace to look uncomfortable at Ellen‘s words, although he knew she had not been taxing his behavior in the matter.

"Will you continue on with this most fascinating tale?" Ellen asked him, and she added another dram of whiskey to the king‘s cup.

"The Irish, for whatever reason, have always had a deep loyalty to the House of York," the king began again. "And they have no love for the Tudors. The place is a hotbed of intrigue most of the time. Our true king, a pretty fellow with a fine figure, was used to advance his master‘s wares.

He was dressed in the best silks in the latest fashions, and paraded about the town. He was about seventeen then, and his resemblance to the lords of the House of York was suddenly very apparent in his fine garments.

"Two of the most powerful and important men in Ireland, the Earl of Kildare and the Earl of Desmond, heard the tale of the young man who looked so like the dead or slain kings of the House of York. They came to observe Perkin Warbeck, as he was now known. And as they had known the last of these unfortunate kings well, they did indeed agree that the resemblance to the men of York was remarkable. So, wishing to cause Henry Tudor as much unhappiness as

possible, they convinced the lad that he was not Perkin Warbeck, but Richard of York, England‘s rightful king."

"How can you know this, my lord?" Ellen wondered.

James Stewart chuckled. "After Adair Radcliffe was so insistent that Warbeck was not her half brother, and I had seen with my own eyes that he did not recognize her at all, I began to make inquiries. You see, my bonny, the perpetrators of this charade would not have necessarily known about Adair, for often children other than royal were raised in the king‘s nurseries for a variety of reasons. And, not being intimately acquainted with the workings of King Edward‘s nursery, they were unlikely to know that Adair was a king‘s brat, his bastard. Because she was of little importance, and Elizabeth Woodville was not pleased to have her there, little attention would have been made of her. And neither Kildare or Desmond could have ever known that Edward the Fourth‘s bastard daughter, even if they were aware of her existence—a woman who knew her half brothers well—was in Scotland, and had access to the court of King James."

"So you would not have ferreted out the truth were it not for Adair," Ellen said.

"Oh, I had my suspicions prior, which is why I sent for Adair," the king admitted. "It was all too convenient, and I well know the hatred the Irish hold for Henry Tudor. Either way, my bonny, I knew I could use Master Warbeck for my own means."

"How did the Duchess of Burgundy become involved?" Ellen inquired.

"Ahh, now, that lady is not quite as honest as she would have all believe." James Stewart chuckled. "You see, part of her dower portion had not ever been paid. Indeed, it was long overdue. Her brother Edward was holding on to it as long as he could, but then he died suddenly.

And King Richard, her other brother, was beset from the start of his reign by his sister-in-law‘s attempts to put her eldest son into his rightful place on the throne, and the threat of a civil war.

And then his own wife and son died. And then Margaret Beaufort and Edward‘s widow,

Elizabeth Woodville, arranged a marriage between Adair‘s half sister, Bess, and Margaret Beaufort‘s son, Henry Tudor, which led to Henry‘s invasion of England and subsequent victory over King Richard at Market Bosworth several years ago.

"Henry Tudor has no intention of paying the remainder of the Duchess of Burgundy‘s dower portion. Indeed, I have been told he is a man who is quite close with a penny." The king chuckled. "‘Tis his Welsh blood, I fear. The Welsh do have the reputation of holding tight to whatever they lay their hands on," James Stewart noted. "So the duchess is irritated, and wishes to do harm to England‘s king for that and, I am told, for other personal reasons. Four years ago Henry Tudor‘s government began hearing rumors about this Yorkist prince in Ireland. And they were frankly concerned. At the same time Margaret of Burgundy learned of our pretender as well."

"Why didn‘t the English take him from Ireland?" Ellen asked. "That would have surely been the wise thing to do."

"While England technically holds Ireland, they have powerful enemies there in the person of the earls of Kildare and Desmond, who can raise armies to fight the English easily. Henry Tudor did not wish to start a war over a rumor. A war that would cost him gold, as well as good English lives. So while he and his council debated the matter, Margaret of Burgundy acted. She sent for Perkin Warbeck to come and meet with her in Flanders. At that point Kildare and Desmond had him convinced that he was the young Richard, Duke of York, who had been smuggled from

England after his brother had been murdered in the Tower of London."

"But Adair said her brothers were killed at Middlesham Castle," Ellen said.

"Aye, and I believe her," James Stewart answered, "but the Tudor adherents had put it out when their man seized power that King Richard had murdered his nephews in the tower. This is the tale that was bruited all about Europe in the Tudor effort to discredit King Richard the Third, and make their man Henry Tudor‘s usurping of England‘s throne legitimate. Yet Edward the Fourth‘s brother, George, Duke of Clarence, has a son with a far stronger claim to England‘s throne as a male heir of the House of York. Only Henry Tudor‘s marriage to Edward the Fourth‘s daughter, Elizabeth, gives him any legitimacy. That and the fact that Edward, Earl of Warwick, Clarence‘s son, is in the Tower.

"Adair has always spoken of her uncle Dickon‘s great love for children, and how kind he was to her in particular. The look on her face when Warbeck, in keeping with the Tudor rumor, said that Richard was not kind was an amazing one to behold. Only her upbringing in the royal nurseries kept her from smacking him, I am certain," the king said with a small chuckle. "She loved her uncle dearly."

"Certainly Warbeck would not have repeated such rumors to the Duchess of Burgundy," Ellen said. "How could she sponsor him under those circumstances?"

"Of course she would have defended her brother Richard, and laid the alleged murders at the hands of others unknown. And he, carefully tutored by the Irish, who believed the same, would have gone along with the deception. And it suited Margaret of Burgundy to say he was her nephew Richard. If she could not have the remainder of her dower portion she would have revenge upon the Tudor usurper. And she was not alone. It suited other monarchs in Europe to take up the cause of this displaced prince.

"My French ally, King Charles the Eighth of France, the counselors of the young Duke of Burgundy, Maximillian, king of the Romans, were all actively involved to one extent or another in this deception. It suited their purposes, as it has mine, to attempt to destabilize Henry Tudor‘s throne. Warbeck was welcomed into France and entertained royally. King Maximillian took him to the funeral of the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick the Third. He was welcomed into Vienna and treated as if he were indeed the rightful and legitimate king of England.

"At this point the English were becoming quite frantic at Warbeck‘s existence. They made attempts to seize him, but he was well protected by those about him. However, those shielding him entered into negotiations with the English to determine which was more to their advantage: retaining him, or accepting a large bounty for his person. Isabella, the queen of Spain, was petitioned for aid, but she is a careful woman. I suspect she knew the truth, as did the rest of them, but was more honorable. She ignored the plea for aid."