The Court of the Midnight King: A Dream of Richard III (38 page)

“It’s all right.” he said quickly. His eagerness to reassure her was touching. “I wanted to know, that’s all. Come and look at Kit.”

He brought the firehawk to her, poised on his gauntlet. As they stood in the stableyard, admiring the raptor and stroking her small fierce head, Kate said gently, “Robin, you won’t tell anyone what you know, will you?”

“I’m not ashamed.” He looked at her, his steel-blue eyes serious.

“I know, but everyone believes you’re Jenny’s son. It wouldn’t be good for people to know too much. Perhaps a few suspect, but as long as the official story stands, no one needs to feel awkward or embarrassed.”

“Or disgraced?” Robin frowned. His mouth was sad. “I can keep a secret. It doesn’t seem fair, though. What’s wrong with you having a son? We’re as good as anyone else.”

“I know. It’s utterly mad. But we really can’t tell anyone yet.”

“Will we ever be able to?”

“One day. We’re not the only people this has happened to, but in the outer world, the mother carries most of the shame.”

“Turn the world inside out, I would,” Robin said under his breath. “Wouldn’t you, Kit?”

“She’s magnificent, isn’t she? Show me how she flies.”

Kate watched him, so thrilled by his hawk wheeling above the crags and folds. She wanted to be proud of him, but couldn’t let herself. She’d done nothing to shape him into this straight-limbed, sweet-natured boy. He could so easily have been bitter and hated her. His good character was just the whim of fate.

They walked back to the house together, the firehawk proud on his arm. Presently he asked, “Who is my father?”

She groaned. “I can’t tell you that. The time isn’t right. I will, eventually, I promise; just not yet.”

He considered this.

“All right, I’ll wait, on condition that I may ask three questions about him.”

“You are very pert,” Kate gasped, amused. “Go on, then. I don’t promise to answer, but you may ask.”

“Was he a great knight?”

“Very great.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yes.” In apprehension she awaited the last question.

“What would my surname be, if you’d married him?”

“You cheeky–” She exhaled, and stroked his hair, one brief gesture of affection. “Our secret?”

“I promise, on Kit’s life.”

“Your surname would have been the best.”

She whispered it into his ear.

Leaving the boy to tend his hawk, she returned to her mother. Eleanor was in the solar, poring over a huge book of household accounts. The light was amber and dusty red, outlining her mother who sat, elegant in russet velvet, with her feet resting on a tapestry footstool.

“He knows,” Kate said helplessly.

Eleanor looked up. “I didn’t tell him.” She beckoned Kate to sit beside her on the settle.

“He worked it out for himself, little devil.”

“I must say I’m not surprised. Was he upset?”

“He didn’t seem to be. He’s a wonderfully clever boy.” Kate stared at her hands. “He’s probably realised who is father is by now.”

“No wavering, now, and no regrets,” Eleanor said, calm and firm. “We did what was best. We shall have to decide his future; whether it’s best for him to leave here, after all, though the goddess knows, I should miss him sorely. We should decide soon.”

“Yes.” Kate sighed. “So much to decide.”

“Have you told your young man about him?”

“Raphael? No. I couldn’t. I think he would have accepted it, but… the words wouldn’t come out, and now I’ve left it too late. Mama, I’ve never told anyone. I’m not seen as a dishonoured woman in the outer world, and I don’t want my reputation shattered. And Raphael would want to know who the father was – Gods, how could I ever tell him that?”

Carefully, Eleanor asked, “Are you going to be married?”

“I suppose so. Let me put it this way; we really should have married six years ago. We meant to do so this spring, but King Edward’s death stopped everything. Now there never seems time. We’re always at the beck and call of our master and mistress. Our lives are theirs, not our own.”

Eleanor gave her a probing, serious stare. “It takes but a few minutes to marry.”

“And a lifetime to wish you hadn’t,” Kate muttered.

“I’m not bullying you into conforming with the outer world, but we must be practical. This is important, because it pertains to the future of Lytton Dale. If you marry Raphael, he will be our lord, and your children will inherit. If not, young Robin may be able to inherit; but only if his parentage is made public, and special provision granted by the king. But you refuse to tell the king. All in all, it could be a tangle. And what if you had another natural child?”

“Mama, I won’t. I’m very practised with herbs, charms and the phases of the moon. Other women come to me for instruction all the time.”

“Is Raphael a good man? A true son of his mother? A man who will strengthen us and not to undermine us?”

“Yes, Mama. All those things.”

“Then would you explain to your obtuse old mother why you are plainly putting off marriage to him?”

“I don’t know!” Kate leaped up and paced to the window. “I love him dearly, but the idea of being his wife – of losing my freedom – makes me panic. I would feel like a trapped bird. We like being lovers and friends – but marriage? I don’t know. It seems so absolute, like the clang of a prison door. An end to any other possibility. It scares me. I don’t know.”

Eleanor rose, went to the door and glanced out – to make sure no one was listening, Kate realised, turning warm – then closed it.

“I doubt it would be that dreadful. A good marriage quickly feels quite safe and ordinary. What does he say? Has he pushed you on the matter?”

“Sometimes, but not of late. I always change the subject. And as I said, we’re too busy to think of it. We’re happy as we are.”

“You know it’s rare for women of our station to have the luxury of choosing our husbands. Many might wonder why you hesitate. ‘An end to any other possibility’ – Whatever do you mean?”

Kate went to her mother and clasped both her hands. “Mama, is it possible to love two men at the same time? Each in a different way?”

“This second man would not be your dear late father, then?” Eleanor said dryly. “Raphael has a rival?”

“No. He’s married, he cares nothing for me, but… I can’t stop thinking about him. He haunts me. I don’t know that I even love him; I don’t know what to call it.”

“Infatuation?”

Kate shook her head vehemently. “Gods, no, it’s far beyond that. It’s like being bewitched and chained in velvet, so soft you don’t know it’s happened until it’s too late. The feeling is terrible, yet I don’t want it to stop. I cannot marry Raphael while I feel like this about another man.”

It took a lot to shock Eleanor, but she looked astonished. She held a breath for so long Kate thought she would never speak again.

“Well,” she said finally, laughing. “Actually, many women marry while pining for another man. You are fortunate indeed to have a choice. Who is he?”

Kate pressed her hands to her face.

“Great goddess, don’t make me tell you.”

“It’s Robin’s father, isn’t it?”

In answer, Kate only gave a sigh that became a low groan.

“Oh, Kate!” Eleanor’s cry made her jump. “After your protestations that he meant no more than a passing shepherd? After you’ve served his wife all these years?”

“There’s no need to examine every detail of my humiliation,” Kate snapped.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Being so close to him all this time, yet distant. Or I was lying, when I said the first time I met him had no effect upon me. Yes, lying, especially to myself.”

“Has anything further… occurred between you?”

“No, of course not. We agreed to forget the folly of our extreme youth. And he’s renowned for his faithfulness to his wife. And I love Raphael.”

“Oh, Kate,” she said again. “He’s the king.”

“I had noticed.” Katherine drew herself up. “But he… confides in me sometimes. You saw the beautiful mare I rode here? He gave her to me.”

Eleanor looked scandalised. “Did he? Why?”

“For nursing Anne through an illness.”

“Which is only your normal duty.”

“I know. I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“You should have refused the gift.”

“How could I?”

“Because he’s no business to be toying with your feelings in that way! This is impossible.”

“I’m fully aware of that.”

“Let’s see. Could your feelings stem from simple awe? Kings, saints and nobles tend to attract excessive devotion. Added to that, you can’t have him. That fact inflames people’s passions like nothing else.”

Kate gripped her own elbows, fingering the hard angles through her sleeves.

“You’re right. Next time the fever comes over me, I’ll remember what you’ve said. I don’t want to be his mistress. I just like the thrill of his presence, and having this secret. I can’t help it, or reason it away. But that’s why I can’t marry Raphael.”

“Does Raphael know?”

“Of course not! I could never tell him. Imagine how betrayed he’d feel.”

“There is an answer.”

“Yes?”

“For you and Raphael to leave the king’s service.”

Kate stood silent. At last she gave a hard shake of her head. “Raphael would never leave him. And I can’t leave Anne.”

Eleanor’s eyebrows twitched. “You are not jealous of her?”

“I was, but it’s separate. I’ve grown to love her like a sister.”

“I can’t berate you for having so much love in you.” Her mother pressed her fingers to Kate’s cheek. “Better too much than too little, especially in a priestess of Auset.”

“This concern is a small corner of my life. It doesn’t rule me.”

“But it’s preventing you from marrying. You could leave, if you wanted.”

“Obviously, then, I don’t want to. I like tormenting myself.”

“Then I give up, Kate! Do as you will; but be on your guard. I know how easily passion can turn to hate. I hear the king has enemies enough.”

“I won’t turn against him. The best appointed, yes?”

“So it is felt by the York sisterhood.”

“I was at the London Motherlodge. Bridget Marl said the same to me. So I love him and aid him purely as my king.”

“Wise Kate.”

“By the way, you’re not obtuse, Mama, or even so old.”

Eleanor’s eyes glinted. “Thank you. Just as well, in the Mater Superior. Your son’s future is important, but so is yours. I need you out in the world, and your position is ideal. You mustn’t be turned aside by distractions in the shape of men. Marry, or not, as you will; but turn aside. Kate, I want you to follow me as Mater Superior. All the sisters are in agreement. You are as much heir to the hidden world as the Plantagenets are to the outer.”

###

Buckingham sat at his fireside in Brecknock Castle, huddled over a bowl of mulled ale. Every bone ached from a long and furious ride. Bishop Morton paced slowly – glided, rather – around the large firelit hall.

“He expressed a wish that the princes should die,” said Buckingham. “I was shocked. I wept, I tried to dissuade him; he was like stone.”

Morton stroked his chin as he paced. He looked thoughtful and compassionate; impossible to tell what he was really thinking. “Let your conscience be clear; you did what you could. Not your fault he was deaf to your tender entreaties.”

“I did my best.”

“And this has plainly distressed you,” Morton said gently.

“Creator knows what price I’ll pay for it.”

“You are afraid of him?”

“Of course I’m bloody afraid!” Buckingham exclaimed. “Look how he dealt with Hastings, with Anthony Woodville!”

A low muttering came from Morton.

“What are you doing?” Harry demanded.

“Praying for you.”

Fear became a flood of terror. The story he told Morton might have been skewed, but the result was the same; he and Richard no longer trusted each other. “Thank you, your Grace, but there’s no need.”

“Alas,” said Morton. His well-fleshed hand passed over Harry’s hair. “His actions towards the princes have already made him unpopular. If they die, there will be a turning of the tide against him such as this kingdom has never seen. And if he falls, Harry, you fall with him.”

Buckingham sat shivering. Morton was right.

“A rebellion? They won’t dare.”

The Bishop leaned down and whispered in his ear, making him start.

“It’s already begun. An unholy alliance of Woodvilles and Lancastrians, in truth, but it only serves to show that the whole world will unite against Richard. And you are his prime henchman.”

“What shall I do?”

“Distance yourself from him. Do so immediately and decisively. Make it clear you are his henchman no longer. If he falls, you need to be secure on the winning side.”