A Rose for the Crown (23 page)

“Geoffrey Bywood, before I apprehend you to stand trial in front of the justices of this county, what do you have to say for yourself?” the sheriff bellowed at the boy.

“Your lordship, I just wanted to go home. I am sorry I ran away, and I am sorry I took the bread and cheese, but I was homesick.” Geoff looked around for Kate. “Do not let Dame Elinor beat me again, I beg of you, sir!”

Richard, Edgar and the sheriff were clearly taken aback by this heartfelt, guileless plea. Richard whispered something to the sheriff, and he nodded. Richard stepped forward and asked Geoff to explain where he had been for the past two days. Geoff told his story for the second time that morning, and Kate searched the sheriff’s face to see whether or not he believed Geoff. It was hard to tell. The servants began whispering among themselves until the sheriff told them to hold their tongues or he would clear the room. Several people were pointing at Geoff’s blanket and agreeing it was not one they recognized from the Mote.

“It still does not mean the boy is innocent!” roared the sheriff, understanding their signals. “He might have pushed Dame Elinor into the lake.”

“Push Dame Elinor into the lake?” Geoff’s eyes were wide with horror. He began to look wildly around the room. “Where is Dame Elinor, Cousin Richard? If she thinks I pushed her into the lake, she must be very angry indeed. But I never saw her when I ran away, I swear it!”

“She cannot be angry anymore, Geoffrey.” Richard’s tone frightened the boy. “She drowned.”

“Drowned?” Geoff thought for a moment. “Do you mean she is
dead
?” He rose to his feet. “Oh, sweet Jesu! You think I pushed Dame Elinor into the lake and drowned her. Is that what you think? But . . . but . . . why would I do that?”

“Because she hurt you so many times, Geoff. ’Tis what everyone here thinks.” Kate ran forward and put her arm around her brother. Geoff sank down on the stool, tears again running down his cheeks.

“I did not kill her, Kate.” Geoff looked up at his sister. “I did not even see her, I swear to you on our mother’s grave!”

“I believe you, Geoff. But we have to make these other people believe you, too. Cousin, did you inform Sheriff Mayfield about the dirty bundle Oliver found?” Kate leveled her gaze at Richard. The sheriff looked astonished at the young woman’s audacity.

“Nay, Kate. But now I have heard Geoff’s story, I am inclined to do that. Edgar, take the boy and secure him somewhere so that he will not run away again. Mayfield, follow me. I have something to show you.” Richard walked towards the stairwell door. As he went, Kate heard him say, “If you listened carefully and the boy is telling the truth, you would have heard one very good reason why he could not have killed Elinor.”

“And what is that, Master Richard?”

“Because it was almost dark when Elinor was pushed, and by that time, our young suspect claims he was at Oldbury Hill.” He swept out of the room with the sheriff following and scratching his head.

T
HE
NEXT
TWO
DAYS
slid by slower than a snail’s pace for Kate and Geoff. He was locked in a storage room under the haylofts on the west wall, and Kate was allowed to visit him whenever she wanted. He was not badly treated, and Richard was more and more inclined to believe the lad innocent. In deference to Richard’s standing in the region, the sheriff permitted Geoff to remain in Richard’s custody until a trial could be
arranged. Richard spent many hours in the chapel, praying by Elinor’s bier. He swore he would not bury her until the culprit was found.

Ralph returned with John at the end of the second day. Thomas Draper was away in London, and Kate was relieved he had not come. She flew into her father’s arms; he was suddenly her rock, and she finally gave way to a great bout of weeping. He greeted Richard with deference and expressed his condolences on Elinor’s death, and Richard gave him a thorough accounting of the events of the past days. Later, Geoff was taken into the room to talk to his father. Kate hovered outside, trying to catch some of the conversation, but the stout oak door yielded nothing but murmurs.

When Richard flung open the door, Kate jumped guiltily away from the doorpost. Richard hardly noticed her. He called loudly for Edgar.

“I have promised my kinsman that I would send to Oldbury Hill for any sign of this Brother Jerome,” he told Edgar. “I trust none but you. On the morrow, you will take a groom and ride there as fast as you can. If the brother does not exist, then we shall know young Geoffrey has been lying. He will then face trial. His punishment is likely to be branding on the cheek. He is too young for hanging, but the mark of murderer on his face will make men shun him for the rest of his life, I promise you that.”

Kate drew in a sharp breath at the thought. But it was a good sign that Richard planned at least to try and prove Geoff’s story was true.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered. But Richard had already turned back into his office and did not hear her. Edgar led Geoff back to his little cell.

Edgar and Ralph found Brother Jerome after some inquiries at a cottage at the foot of the hill. He willingly accompanied the two men back to the Mote, and Richard bade him welcome.

“Now fetch Geoff, Edgar. We will see if he recognizes the good brother or, more important, if the good brother recognizes Geoff.”

Brother Jerome inclined his large head in a bow to Anne, Kate and Brother Francis before taking up a stand by the fire. A few moments later, Geoff entered the hall. Brother Jerome smiled and nodded at Richard. Geoff’s eyes flew wide, and he ran to the monk.

“Brother Jerome, Brother Jerome! How glad I am to see you! Please say you remember me. They think I killed Dame Elinor. Tell them I did not, I beg of you!”

“Good sir, this is the young man who spent last Monday night with me on Oldbury Hill. I can assure you, he was with me two hours before the sunset and until after sunrise. And he still has my best blanket, I am happy to see.” The monk ruffled Geoff’s chestnut head and whispered that he was proud of him for returning as he had promised.

The sheriff had left earlier in the day, so Ralph was commanded to ride to Tunbridge to give him this latest news.

“We shall not charge this young rascal after all,” Richard announced. “’Tis evident he could not have been at the lake and at Oldbury Hill at the same time.” Brother Jerome inclined his head in agreement. Kate ran over to Geoff, and the two siblings hugged each other and jumped up and down with delight.

John separated them. “However, young Geoffrey, you must still be punished for running away. How do you think Master Haute should punish you?” John was stern, but there was a twinkle in his eye that Kate caught but not Geoff.

“I will muck out the stables for . . . for . . . a week? Father? Cousin Richard? Is that enough? No? Two weeks then? And no beating? No? I thank you, sir, for your kindness.” Geoff looked from one man to the other and was relieved another beating was not in the offing. “And, sir”—he turned to Richard—“may I say how very sorry I am for Dame Elinor’s death. I was unhappy that day, yes, but I could not harm the lady, I swear it.”

Richard bowed his acknowledgment and dismissed the brother and sister. He invited the rest of the group into his office and told Anne to set a place for Brother Jerome for the midday dinner.

Kate took her brother’s hand and ran with him into the garden.

“Oh, Geoff! You cannot know how near to branding you came. I pray you do Cousin Richard’s bidding henceforth. I shall not always be here to stand by you.”

“Thank you for believing in me, sister. I am beholden to you once again.”

“Again? Aye, at the river with Fenris! Perhaps now is the time to tell you of loyalty.”

“Loyalty? What does it mean?”

“Father explained it to me after I was punished for taking you to the
river.” A vision of a soldier hanging from a tree flashed through Kate’s mind. “’Tis standing by someone or something you believe in, no matter what—even if it means dying,” she said, dramatically. “Certes, ’tis hard to explain.” So she told him the story of her father and the
écu.

“One day I must be loyal to you in return,” Geoff said seriously.

Kate laughed at his earnest face. “Fiddle-faddle! I shall never do anything to warrant that much loyalty, I dare swear!”

PART
TWO
Tant le desirée

(Long have I desired it)

—
MOTTO
OF
K
ING
R
ICHARD
III

8
Tunbridge and Ightham, 1466–1467

T
he mist hung in ghostly fragments over the meadows, giving promise of another steamy summer day. A lark rose into the air, its sweet song carrying over the fields.

’Tis unseemly for God to make the sun to shine on poor Thomas’s funeral, as if ’twas a happy occasion, Kate thought, as she stood by the casement of her chamber and stared out at the bucolic scene. She loved this view from the second story of Draper House, because it faced east, the direction of the sunrise and of her childhood home a few miles away. But today her thoughts were a jumble of memories and funeral details, and her eyes did not focus on the landscape.

For two years, the graceful, gabled house on the London road in the center of Tunbridge had been her home, and she had eventually grown to love Thomas as she would a favorite uncle. She conformed to the role of goodwife to one of the town’s richest merchants and entertained his patrons with the grace and skill she had acquired at Ightham. Thomas was very proud of his lovely bride, and when the pain of separation from the Mote lessened, Kate accepted her lot according to her station and allowed her inherently sunny nature to prevail.

Kate chose to wed Thomas on May Day in the Mote’s chapel, following the appropriate mourning period for Elinor.

How was she to know that just at the time she was plighting her troth, King Edward was secretly making his vows many miles to the north to the obscure Lady Elizabeth Grey? When that marriage was revealed to a stunned nation six months later, Kate’s reaction was one of delight at the romantic coincidence. The connection became even more gratifying when the relationship between Richard Haute and the new queen was realized. Richard’s mother, Joan Woodville, was Elizabeth’s aunt. Not one to curry favor through connections, Richard was honored all the same. He became a member of the king’s household. Now, two years later, those in power at Westminster were feeling the effects of lusty Edward’s impulsive action in wedding a nobody. He was quick to please his lovely queen and elevated her many siblings to ranks that insulted many others more deserving.

When Richard Haute visited Kate and Thomas from Westminster with tales of intrigue and politics, Kate listened with fascination. The most exciting news of all was that she, plain Kate Bywood of Snoll’s Hatch, was distantly related to the new queen. She heard Richard describe Elizabeth as “the fairest lass I have yet feasted my eyes on.” Thomas harrumphed over the king’s union and muttered something about the fecklessness of youth.

“Come, come, Thomas,” Richard teased him. “In truth, you married for a pretty face and a dainty figure!”

Thomas had the grace to blush, while Kate looked demurely at her hands in her lap.

Kate’s kind husband was now laid out in his coffin in the shop downstairs. She smiled when she remembered how he had spoiled her once they had returned to Tunbridge as husband and wife. As she surmised those many months ago on her frosty walk at Ightham, Thomas indeed derived pleasure in decking his new possession in the choicest of his fabrics. Large-patterned damasks and satins were fashioned into high-waisted gowns edged with fur and gold brocade for entertaining, and the finest wools and linens made into her everyday gowns. She protested that Thomas overdressed her for the country folk who ate at their table.

“Nonsense, my love! It will increase my business tenfold, you shall see,” the worldly-wise mercer chided her as he presented her with yet another piece of jewelry to complement a new gown.

Thomas’s first marriage was childless, so he had no one else on whom to lavish his wealth and affection. His first wife died a year before he first saw Kate, and until that moment he had not considered remarrying. He had been hopeful that Kate would present him with a son before he died, but that was not to be.