By Loyalty Bound: The Story of the Mistress of King Richard III (12 page)

She exchanged glances with them both and her Uncle Robert smiled, but Uncle James’ face was set in an expression of simmering anger and she saw that he winced as he knelt before the king.

“Now it is time to give up your trouble making!” the king warned them. “You must surrender Hornby Castle to your niece, Anne Stanley. I shall send Sir Ralph Assheton to oversee the arrangements. It is my last word on this matter,” he said, glaring at the men before him and then at the Duke of Gloucester.

Anne watched sadly. After everything that had happened the king would still not change his mind. He had handed Hornby to Thomas Stanley, a man who had fought against him less than a year ago. And the Harringtons, who had never swerved in their loyalty to the Yorkists, had lost the lands and the castle that had been theirs for generations.

“Now, let us have some dancing!” declared the king, gesturing to the musicians to take up their instruments. “Come Mistress Harrington,” he said, winking at Izzie. “Give me your hand whilst you are still an unmarried woman and I cannot fear the wrath of your husband!”

Izzie giggled as the king came down the steps with his hand outstretched and servants rushed to stack the trestle tables away. Anne saw Uncle James look round for her and she went quickly to him, escaping the restraining hand of Lord Stanley.

“Uncle James,” she said, finding that she had tears in her eyes at the sight of him. “Are you well?”

“A little bruised from battle and a wound that pains me when I kneel,” he remarked, “but apart from that my body is well, though my heart aches at the loss of Hornby.”

“I am sorry,” she said, as he leaned to kiss her cheek. “How fares my aunt and my young cousins?”

“They are well. They have already gone to Brierley and I may soon join them there... Your Grace,” he said suddenly, with a nod of his head, as his eyes fell on someone behind her and Anne felt her skin tingle at the awareness that Richard was close by.

“I am sorry, James,” he said as he reached to rest his hand briefly on her uncle’s shoulder, his sleeve brushing Anne’s arm. “You fought bravely at both Barnet and Tewkesbury to return my brother to the throne and I feel that you deserve better. But my loyalty must be to the king in this, as in all matters.”

“I am grateful to Your Grace for your interventions on my behalf.”

“You are a good man, James Harrington; a true and honest friend, as is Robert. And Anne? Are you well?” he asked, looking at her.

“I... I am well,” she stammered under his shrewd gaze.

Behind them the dancers swirled onto the floor as the musicians picked up the tempo of their tune.

“I do not care to dance,” Richard said, watching Izzie with her hand in the king’s. “I feel the need for some fresh air. Will you accompany me?” he asked her.

“I would be honoured,” she replied and with a backward glance at Lord Stanley’s stony face she placed her hand on his extended arm and allowed him to lead her out of the hall and through an ante-chamber to a door that opened into a courtyard.

“So, you are married to one of Stanley’s sons,” he said as the door thudded shut and the sound of the music and clapping faded.

“A marriage in name only. The boy is yet a child. Richard...” She pulled on his arm to make him stop and face her. “Richard...” She reached out her other hand and caressed the soft fabric of his doublet, remembering the hard muscles beneath. “I have missed you,” she said at last, looking up to search his face for some reciprocal feeling.

“Not here,” he said, glancing up at the surrounding windows. “Come with me!” He took her hand and led her to a secluded walled garden where fruit trees were growing along wattle supports. He turned her back to a space between two apple trees and pressed her hard against the rough stone with his body. Anne could barely breathe. He smelt the same, though it was not a scent she could ever have described. His breath was cool across her cheek in the moment before his lips rediscovered her mouth and as his hands began to caress her she slipped her arms around his slender waist and held him even closer.

“I want you,” she whispered, as he paused for breath. “I have waited so long and yearned for you so much.”

“We cannot,” he replied as his lips moved from her mouth to her cheeks and eyes and his hand brushed against her breast. “You are a married woman.”

“It is not a marriage. It is not consummated and was made without my true consent.”

He took her wrists and kissed the palms of her hands in turn and then he paused and glanced around the garden. There was no one there; only the faint sounds of music and laughter from inside the castle. With a decisive movement he grasped her skirts and gathered the folds, crushing the cloth between their bodies. She felt his knee between her legs as he fumbled with his own clothes.

“These regal trappings do not lend themselves to this pleasure,” he complained as he struggled to free himself.

“At least you do not wear your armour, sir,” said Anne laughing at their boldness. Then she felt his warm hands on her bare thighs above her stockings and she was held hard against the stone wall.

“Forgive me, my lady, but we must make haste if we are not to risk interruption,” he said as she felt him press against her. He was forceful and for a moment it pained her, yet it was what she had craved for over a year and she didn’t want it to end, even though her heart pounded with the fear that they would be discovered with their nether parts bared for all to see. He drew a sharp breath and after a moment he kissed her cheek and withdrew from her to rearrange his clothing.

“We had best go in before we are missed,” he said as she smoothed down her wrinkled gown.

“A moment,” she said. “There is something that I have to ask you; it troubles me.”

“Speak your mind,” he said as she hesitated.

“Richard, I have heard stories.” He said nothing but held her steadily in his gaze.

“They say you killed Edward of Lancaster,” she said and almost regretted her words as she watched his eyes grow icy.

“In battle there are many deaths. It is not a fit subject for a lady to consider.”

“He died in battle?”

“Yes.”

“Did you kill him?” she asked, needing to hear the truth from him.

“I have killed many men in battle, Anne. If I do not kill them then they will kill me. Would that be preferable to you?”

“No, of course not.”

“You have never witnessed a battle and be thankful for that. It is not a glorious thing. It is filled with the stench of blood and death and men’s screams of agony as their entrails spill from their bodies and their brains from their heads. I am never proud to take a life. I pray that God will forgive me for breaking His commandment. But it is a necessary evil, and a man who fights against his king is beneath my contempt.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Anne as she looked at the ground, filled with contrition by his reprimand.

“No,” he said more gently, as his fingers raised her chin so that she was forced to look at him. “It is I who am sorry to be angry when we have so little time together.”

“Richard...?” Her voice trembled, but she knew that she must dare to ask him one thing more if she was to have peace in her mind. “The king? King Henry? They say you murdered him in the Tower...” She froze as dark displeasure flashed across his face.

“You forget your place, I think, to ask me these things!”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, brushing away an unwelcome tear with the back of her hand. She saw that she had made him very angry and she was afraid.

“My brother was merciful for many years,” he told her, “but that mercy was used as a weapon against him by those whom he had trusted. What folly it would have been to let Henry live. Surely you can see that?” He took a step closer to her and she would have shrunk from him if she hadn’t already been trapped against the wall with his arms imprisoning her on either side. “What would you had rather happened?” he demanded. “That he was cut by the blows of some inadequate executioner, dying in agony? Or that he had a quick and merciful death?”

Anne sobbed and covered her face with her hands, not able to look at this man who had just known the intimacies of her body.

“I wish I had not asked,” she cried as she remembered the sad, bewildered man who had sat on the throne in St Paul’s.

“Because it makes you dislike me?” She shook her head, unable to speak. “Anne,” he said as his temper subsided and he took her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “Look at me. Look at me!” he repeated and waited until she obeyed, meeting his stern eyes.

“We must sometimes act at variance with our own wishes to show our loyalty,” he explained. “I give my loyalty to my brother, the king. What he commands, I do – and though I may question him, as I have over the matter of Hornby, he is still the king. His word is law and I must obey.”

He released her then and walked away without waiting to see if she had understood or forgiven him. Anne watched him go. She had known that he was capable, but to hear it from his own lips was still shocking. Yet she could not say that he was wrong. She could not say that it had stopped her loving him.

She picked up her cap from where it had fallen to the ground, shook the dirt from it, and pinned it in place. Then, smoothing down her gown once more and wiping her face with the palms of her hands, she attempted to recover her composure before going back into the hall.

Inside, she glanced around the hot and crowded room, at the dancers and the groups of people standing in conversation. He was close to the dais and engaged in talk with a group of men she did not recognise.

“Where have you been?” hissed Lord Stanley from behind her. “I have arranged for the barge to return both you and Lady Stanley to the house, for I am heartily displeased with both of you!”

“I... I was hot. I stepped outside for some air,” she protested.

“Your cap is askew,” he told her as he looked at her with disgust. “You will go back now and I will speak to you later!”

He did not allow her to protest and there was little she could say. He took her arm roughly and, as she glanced back towards Richard who was still deep in conversation, he escorted her out to the riverside where the Stanley barge was waiting with Lady Stanley already seated under the canopy. He handed her aboard and barely waited until she had sat down before signalling the oarsmen to proceed.

“My grief for my brother displeases my husband,” said Lady Stanley as their eyes met. “I am sorry if your pleasure has been cut short to accompany me home.”

Anne did not admit that she had displeased Lord Stanley as well. She was just thankful that her companion did not notice her crumpled gown, or the way her eyes remained fixed on the wall of Baynard’s Castle as they were rowed away upriver.

Robert Harrington knew that it was the Duke of Gloucester who had recommended him for honours after the battle at Tewkesbury and it pleased him greatly, but he was disappointed that Diccon had still not been able to change the king’s mind about Hornby. To have knelt before the king to be knighted was one thing, but to kneel before him to be told that his brother’s claim to Hornby would never succeed had been humiliating and Robert had retreated to the far end of the hall to seek some solitude from the inquisitive eyes of the other guests.

He was relieved to see his nieces were safe, but as he watched Izzie dancing with her betrothed, John Stanley, Robert felt a twinge of conscience that he had not yet managed to visit Isabella at Balderstone. He had sent her a long and loving letter but he feared that even that might not be enough to reassure her. Now that this matter with Hornby was over he hoped that Diccon might at least recompense him with some leave to go north and arrange his wedding.

A door banging behind him made him look round and he saw the duke come in with a dark look on his face. Their eyes met for an instant but Diccon strode across the hall as if determined to avoid him. Robert felt sorry. The king’s decision over Hornby had humiliated him too. He would speak with him later, thought Robert, who had learned long ago that Diccon in a bad mood was best left well alone.

James approached him with a face as gloomy as the duke’s.

“I will not give it up,” he said. “That castle belongs to the Harringtons and I will not stand by and see it handed to Stanley. At first light I will ride north and stock it with men and provisions and let the devil take anyone who tries to wrest it from me!”

“And what of your loyalty to the Duke of Gloucester?”

“I doubt he will gainsay me,” replied James and Robert surmised that his brother was probably correct.

Anne lay in bed and gazed at the darkness beyond the small window. She could hear the lions roaring but now that she knew where the sound came from she found it strangely comforting. And she was in need of comfort.

She heard Izzie and a servant tiptoe in and close the door softly. In silence her sister was undressed and the servant dismissed.

“I’m still awake,” she said as her sister came to the bed.

“Are you unwell?” asked Izzie. “Lord Stanley said you had returned early.”

“I’m not unwell. I was sent back – in disgrace,” she replied.

“Disgrace! Whatever did you do?” asked Izzie pulling back the hangings and then striking the flints to reignite the candle on the bedside coffer.

Anne hesitated but she wanted to talk to someone about what had happened and she hoped that since her own betrothal her sister would understand her feelings. “I went into the garden with the Duke of Gloucester,” she told her.

“I hope that you didn’t let him kiss you,” she said, though Anne sensed that she craved the details despite her attempt at disapproval.

“Yes, he kissed me,” she said. Izzie jumped onto the bed beside her sister.

“Just kissed?” she asked, with her head on the bolster beside Anne’s.

“More than kissed,” she admitted. “He... We...”

“Nan!” exclaimed Izzie, sitting up and staring at her with a shocked expression. “You don’t mean...? What if someone had seen you? Have you no shame? You’re a married woman. It’s a sin!”

“Then I shall confess,” shrugged Anne. “I shall confess that I love him. I love Richard, Duke of Gloucester!”