A Rose for the Crown (65 page)

“Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow?
The small rain down can rain!
O gentle death, when wilt thou come?
For I of my life am weary.”

“Aye, she was indeed weary of her life here on earth.” Martin spoke low. “But I shall never weary of her memory. May the Lord God bless and keep her until I shall greet her at heaven’s door. Farewell my dear, good wife.”

Maud buried her face in his side, sobbing. He went down on one knee and gathered her to him, oblivious of the mud he sank into.

“There, poppet, ’tis good to cry. We should all cry for our loss, but we should rejoice in her life. Let us go home and drink a cup to her memory. She would like that.”

The next day, in the solar so recently occupied by Philippa, Martin sadly told his family he must ride to join the king. He should have been in exile with Edward, but his small boat was one of those broken up in the storm in the Wash, and he was lucky to reach shore all in one piece. He had slipped home undetected, unaware that the king and his party had taken flight from Lynn. For the first few weeks, he lay low at Chelsworth, though Henry and Warwick had not hounded Yorkist sympathizers after regaining power.

It was agreed by the Jacobs that Maud should lodge with them while Martin was gone. Amelia and Magdalena went upstairs with her to gather her belongings for the ride to Lavenham. Adam Jacob went to see to the horses, leaving Martin and his son with Kate. For the first time since Philippa’s disclosure, Martin broached the subject of George.

“I am not adept at pretty speeches, Kate, nor am I good at speaking of things I do not rightly understand. But I need to address the matter of your marriage with George and your treatment at his hands. I must apologize for my son. He spurned my advice and broke his trust with Howard for his own greedy gain. ’Tis unspeakable what he made you endure, and I must commend you for your silence and your loyalty to the family name. It is possible George may have endured far worse than a vagabond’s knife had his sodomy been discovered. Men have been known to burn for the act.”

As he spoke, he stared at a spot on the floor. He was plainly embarrassed, but his honor compelled him to acknowledge Kate’s goodwill. “I must confess, ’twas a grievous disappointment to Philippa and me to know Katherine and John are not our grandchildren, but I cannot blame you in your deception, Kate.” He raised his eyes finally, and for the hundreth time Kate marveled at their brilliance. “It shall not change my affection for them, but in the matter of inheritance I cannot provide for them. I hope you understand.”

“Dear Father, I did not expect anything. ’Twas a terrible burden for me, and I did not know how I could tell you. When I agreed to wed George, ’twas with a happiness I cannot describe, for I truly believed I loved him and he loved me. I understand that in your eyes and the eyes of the church I have committed adultery, and this I have confessed many times, but as a wife I felt betrayed, rejected. Forgive me.”

A contrite Kate was so unusual, that Martin could not forbear a reluctant smile. “I forgive you, Kate. And if I did not, I fear I would know the wrath of the king’s brother.”

Young Martin sat immobile, his anger against his younger brother contained but not far below the surface. For the first time Kate noticed that he pulled at his long nose just as his mother had. Her eyes welled up at the thought of Philippa, and Young Martin, mistaking her tears for shame, leapt up and went to reassure her.

“’Twas not your fault, Kate. I am sure you had no choice in being summoned to Richard of Gloucester’s bed. A woman does not refuse a royal summons and seduction.” His voice was harsh, born of the concern he felt for his beautiful sister-in-law and anger against George. He was not prepared for Kate’s reaction.

“Your pardon, Martin, but Richard of Gloucester did not summon me, nor did he seduce me. ’Twas an entirely mutual decision. My babes were conceived in love, and Richard has sworn to protect them and claim them as his own when he is able.” She was standing, facing the young man with two pink spots burning on her cheeks, her eyes fiery. Young Martin backed off, and his father chuckled.

“Hold, children! Martin you are presumptuous, but your heart is in the right place. Go and find your wife and make ready for your departure. Kate, sit down and calm yourself. I would speak to you of other matters.” Young Martin cast Kate a resentful look and left without another word. He was clearly in awe of his father.

Kate sat down. Martin watched her twist the ring on her finger, which seemed to give her comfort, and the indignation soon left her face. He sighed. So many plans to complete before he must ride to join the king. Philippa’s death complicated matters. There was Maud to think about, and although he was happy to let her go to Lavenham, her future should be brighter than that. Who was to look after his affairs while he followed the king? He had thought long and hard about it, and each path he followed led back to Kate. Why should she not preside over his house in his absence? She was his daughter-in-law, albeit a widow, and was perfectly capable of handling the daily routine of the manor. On the other hand, it should be his duty to find her another husband. It would not be difficult with her looks and her portion of the Draper inheritance. However, he was convinced more than ever after her outburst that Gloucester’s mistress was content to remain in seclusion and be available to him whenever he wanted her. Yes, perhaps she would agree to move back to Chelsworth and provide a safe and quiet home for her children.

He cleared his throat and tendered her his proposition.

“So, what think you of my offer, Kate? I must leave immediately, if I am to be of any service to my king, and I need to know your answer.”

He could have demanded she take on the responsibility; she was still a junior member of his family. But Martin had come to admire Philippa’s diplomatic style and over the years watched how she used honey to sweeten the dispositions of the household rather than vinegar, which soured them. He was determined on his course, but he waited while Kate mulled it over.

Her first thoughts were of Margaret. How she would miss her no-nonsense friend and mentor! Knowing she could run up the hill to the Hall and share anything with Margaret was a comfort she had come to take for granted. Jack, too, gave her advice, and his connection to the court gave her immediate access to news of Richard. But the question of her widowhood had been brought up on more than one occasion by the Howards, and she knew another suitor might be foisted on her ere long—a niggling thought that troubled her otherwise contented existence at Tendring. In the quiet backwater of Chelsworth, with her father-in-law in need of her, she could live her life in seclusion. Chelsworth was only nine miles from Tendring, so frequent visits to Margaret could be planned in good weather. It would not be so lonely, she decided, and only a short distance farther for Richard to ride. Besides, she knew she could not refuse her father-in-law. He was still responsible for her, and she was his to command. She was grateful that he was considerate of her wishes and loved him the more for it.

“Aye, Father, I will do as you wish. But I do have one condition.” Martin raised an eyebrow at her impertinence but allowed her to continue. “My children and I must have leave to see Richard when it is possible, and I must have your word that you—and Young Martin—will not reveal the children’s real identity until such time as Richard deems prudent. No one else in this house will know they are not your grandchildren—except for Molly and Wat, of course. Can you agree to this, please?”

Martin was so relieved Kate had not refused that he raised her from her chair and kissed her warmly. “Certes, I shall not breathe a word, and before he leaves, Young Martin will also make that vow. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

And so it was arranged. Kate would return to Tendring to close up her house and bring her precious pieces to Chelsworth at the end of the week. She wrote a letter to Richard telling him of the new development and entrusted it to Martin. He, not Jack, would have to serve as intermediary this time, she decided.

“’Tis the least I can do for the loyalty you have shown all of us, Kate,” he said, tucking the missive into his saddlebag.

Martin spoke to his son as promised, and before their party left for
Lavenham, Kate went forward to kiss her brother-in-law and ask his forgiveness for her hasty words.

“If you will forgive me,” Young Martin said. As he held her, Kate thought she heard him whisper, “My sweet Kate.”

I must have imagined it, she thought, pulling away and glancing anxiously at Magdalena already in the saddle. As they rode off, Young Martin turned, smiled and held his finger to his lips in a signal that he would keep her secret. He must have whispered something about that, she concluded.

A
LETTER AWAITED
her return to Tendring, and a warm glow filled her as she worked open the familiar boar seal. Richard had written from Warwick Castle the day they had laid Philippa to rest in Chelsworth churchyard. Enjoying the sun on her back as she hurried out into the field, she sat down on an inviting patch of clover. Spring songbirds chirped around her, and she felt sure the letter would bring good news.

“Today, my brother Clarence returned to us. It was a joyful meeting, and Edward forgave George his trangressions of the past year. On his part, George pledged allegiance to Ned, and our armies are ready to march south to London.”

Kate looked up, thinking back to the last time she had seen George of Clarence stalking away from his defeat in a friendly sword fight with Richard. She wondered if Richard was too trusting of his handsome brother.

“Everywhere the people cry Ned’s name,”
Richard continued,
“and I have no doubt we shall reach the capital without resistance. Can you come to me there, Kate, and bring the children? I think of you every day and would hold you in my arms again. I have sent word to Steward Dudley at Baynard’s Castle to prepare my apartments for you.”

Kate threw the letter in the air and whooped, frightening a squirrel that had crept forward curiously as she sat reading. “Your pardon, Master Brushtail, but I am to see my love again!”

She told Molly not to bother to unpack but to ready herself and the children for another journey. After all, she did not have to be at Chelsworth for a month.

“Be sure my new gown and Katherine’s matching one are included, Molly. I must talk to Lady Howard.” She ignored Molly’s grumbling, though she knew she had just put the children to bed and deserved a little peace and quiet in the kitchen with Janet.

Margaret was upstairs when Kate knocked on the front door. Jack was standing in the middle of the hall in traveling garb, issuing orders to several of his retainers. Kate noticed his armor and sword lying ready on a table and her heart skipped a beat. Surely there would not be any fighting, she thought. Jack saw her and strode over.

“Well met, my little friend. I trust all is well at Chelsworth?”

Kate shook her head sadly. “Nay, Jack, I am sad to say my mother-in-law passed away on All Fools Day. ’Twas a terrible day for all, and I grieve bitterly for her. We have only just returned, and I found the letter from Richard. I would take my news to Margaret, if she will receive me.”

“I am heartily sorry for you and for Martin. Philippa was a good lady, in truth, may God rest her soul,” he acknowledged, but his mind was on the present, and Philippa was given short shrift. “As you see, I am preparing to leave to meet the king. Your letter arrived with the messenger asking that I bring men to meet Edward in London.”

“Then may I travel with you, Jack? For ’tis Richard’s wish I meet him there with the children.”

Jack frowned. “We shall travel fast, Kate. ’Tis not a good idea.” He paused for a moment and then changed his mind. “You will be in need of an escort, so if you can make ready, we shall leave within the hour.”

Kate assented and ran upstairs to find Margaret. She told her briefly of the events at Chelsworth and of the plan for her to take the reins there.

“Why, Kate! I shall miss you dreadfully. Is there no other way?” Margaret was distressed. She was fussing with Cat’s bonnet, and Kate could see she had been crying. Her usual composure seemed to have deserted her.

“What is wrong, Margaret? I can see you are upset.”

Tears hung on Margaret’s lashes. “I fear for my husband, Kate. What if he does not return to me? Or is maimed. I could not bear it.”

Kate knelt down and enveloped mother and child in a sheltering embrace. “Jack is a brave and valiant fighter, so Richard tells me, and besides, my letter from Richard did not mention any fighting. He said that Edward has met no resistance.”

“He is not telling you the whole story, Kate. Warwick’s and Montagu’s armies are in pursuit. They will not give up London without a fight.” Margaret sniffed.

Kate stiffened and stood up. “Then ’tis even more imperative that I go to London,” she muttered.

She was gone before Margaret could digest what she had said.

T
HE HORSES WERE PUSHED HARD,
and the party trotted through the Aldgate at midmorning of the following day. The streets were teeming with men come to rally round King Edward’s banner and send Warwick and pathetic King Henry packing. Those citizens attempting to go about their daily errands were jostled and prevented from crossing the muddy thoroughfares by rough-and-ready soldiers and peasants armed with spears, pikes and bows. Kate kept Cornflower hard by Jack’s big warhorse and clutched John in front of her. Another gentleman had Katherine before him. The little girl was loving the adventure. Kate had seen her clinging to the pommel, her face in a wide grin, whenever the horses had been allowed to gallop. She was well tied to the saddle, with the man’s free arm around her, so Kate had no fear the child would fall. John, too, had been made safe in front of her, and the boy bounced along as though born to the saddle. Molly was the only one who did not enjoy the ride. She was behind Wat, and every now and then was heard to berate him for going too fast. Once, when he took a ditch in a flying leap, she screamed in terror and hit his back to make him stop.