Mistress to the Crown (34 page)

‘Well, I do love her,’ he countered gravely although his hardening body told a different story. ‘But, Almighty God be my witness, I need your love, too.’

You learn with men that nothing you say will make a scrap of difference. I pulled free from his embrace. I knew the sensible course. I had not been a concubine all these years to worry about coupling and I was very fond of Hastings, but I was under no compulsion to make it easy for him.

‘Haven’t I watched over you all these years, Elizabeth?’ he exclaimed, still trying to please. ‘For pity’s sake, matching you with Ned was more than self-interest. Sometimes it crucified me seeing you together.
I love you
. I love you and I don’t care a fucking kingdom whether it debases the currency or not.’

By our Saviour, how complex we humans are. I’m sure he believed what he was saying. For my part, I was sad I could not return his love in equal measure and that in my ignorance I had not guessed how deeply he’d cared for me.

Below the window, I heard the rattle of thin chains and cheerful barking. His servants were letting loose the guardian dogs. Without Ned, the human dogs were being unleashed, too. I must decide wisely.

‘Elizabeth?’ he prompted.

I remembered how he had stood in Shore’s shop and transformed my homespun life into shining brocade with just a smile. Now his lips brushed my fingers.

‘Sweetheart, I’m no monk and I’ve been too long from home. I’m lonely, Elizabeth, and I want you so much.’

Ah, so men speak of love and lure us to their beds. He pushed my hand down to free his prick.

‘Perhaps you should have been born a Saracen.’ I began loosening his clothing. ‘A lawful wife in every shire and concubines along the Great North Road.’

‘Too-com-pli-cated,’ he said between slow kisses. ‘That is so good.’

Our tumbling was satisfactory, not sustained and tantalising like those early lessons. Hastings was asleep in an instant leaving me to pad round to his side and pinch out the candles save one little nightlight.

This time I cuddled up to him. I thought about his Kate. Why had she not taken the reins and come to London? She was Warwick’s sister, surely not craven-hearted. Or didn’t she care? I would have covered those miles someh—

My reverie was broken by barking, shouts and running feet. Beaumont’s Inn exploded into turmoil. Hastings sprang from the bed, hastily pulling on his underdrawers. Before he could investigate, fists pounded the bedchamber door. The light of torches showed beneath it. The Queen had sent her soldiers.

III

‘Will, open up!’

Hastings held a lethal baselard in his right hand as he set his other hand to the wooden door bar. ‘It’s Ferrers!’ he whispered over his shoulder with a grin of relief.

‘He’s
lonely
?’ I scrambled from the bed, grabbed my gown from the floor and joined him at the door. ‘They may have a knife at his throat,’ I warned, glancing about me. Perhaps I could jab a tapestry pole into someone’s belly?

‘My lord, I must speak with you.’ The second voice was familiar but I could put no name to it; Hastings could. Once I had my gown over my head, he passed me the dagger and thrust the bar aside. I did not share his confidence. I tensed behind the door, blade at the ready. The torchlight lit Hastings’ naked breast for sacrifice but his face showed no fear. In fact, he smiled.

Leather creaked as someone bowed. ‘My lord. I have news. Good news.’

The lawyer Catesby. He stepped in, gritty-eyed, smelling of horse sweat and road dust, his red hair whipped and tangled. Hastings’ men retreated back to the hall, laughing and backslap-ping, but my breath settled slowly.

‘Well, have they secured the Prince?’ barked Hastings.

‘My lord, I have never seen the like.
Oh
, I beg your pardon, good day to you, Mistress Shore.’

‘Day, is it?’ I snapped. I felt like some Medea, standing behind the door with a naked blade, my hair wild about my shoulders and no modesty kerchief to scarf my cleavage. Despite his obvious fatigue, Catesby was still man enough to stare.

‘For God’s Sake!’ snapped Hastings. ‘Let’s have your news, man. You may speak before Elizabeth.’

I did not want to know. Tension clung to the lawyer. It would be like tasting the metal as well as the brew.

I found it hard to follow the tale at first but the crux was this.

Two days earlier Hastings had sent Catesby up to Northampton where Gloucester, Buckingham and the Prince of Wales’s retinue had agreed to meet. Lord Rivers and the boy were the first to arrive, but instead of waiting for the two dukes, Rivers hastened the Prince closer to London; fourteen miles closer, to the town of Stony Stratford, a long line of shops and taverns which straddled the highway north. Then he rode back to Northampton that evening to meet the dukes.

They all had supper together and then either late or in the early hours, Gloucester arrested Rivers. Both dukes then set off at spar-rowfart for Stony Stratford to find the Prince.

‘So now are we talking about what happened only yesterday?’ I asked.

‘Exactly, Mistress Shore. I rode hotspur to Stony Stratford with their graces and my heart was in my mouth for they had only three hundred men a piece, contrary to what you advised, my lord. When we entered the town, it was clear that Grey and the London retinue had arrived. Nigh on two thousand Welsh and Londoners, I’d estimate. The street was crammed with kettleheads as far I could see. The dukes’ retinues would have been outnumbered soon as blink.’

He waited for one of us to say, ‘So what happened then?’ Hastings obliged.

Catesby grinned. ‘The bravest thing I ever saw, my lord of Gloucester calmly rode forward behind his heralds and the throng parted like the sea did for Moses. He just kept riding. Closer and closer he came to Prince Edward, and the Woodville retainers just stared in awe.’

I tried to picture it. ‘I am confused, Master Catesby? Where was Prince Edward? In his lodging?’

‘No, Mistress Shore, he was mounted up along with Grey and his household officers. They were tarrying for Lord Rivers. When the duke came within twenty paces of the Prince, he dismounted and walked through the crowd, right up to his highness’ stirrup and there paid him homage. My God, such courage! Any man could have pulled a dagger on him but he showed not a shred of fear.’

‘What about Buckingham?’

‘Right behind Gloucester like a faithful dog. Grey could have had them arrested but he did not have the steel in him, just gaped like a man smitten by God. If it had been his brother, Dorset, matters might have gone differently.’ The lawyer beamed smugly at the glee lighting Hastings’ face. ‘Then his highness demanded to know where his Uncle Rivers was. I tell you my heart was in my mouth once more. Before Gloucester could answer, Buckingham asked if the boy had breakfasted. The lad said no, so the two dukes swept him back into his inn to dine, with Grey and his highness’s other officers trailing woe-faced after them.

‘Since I was your embassy, my lord, I followed also. Next instant, Gloucester ordered Grey’s arrest declaring that “the Queen’s kinsmen had conspired to prevent him becoming Lord Protector and wilfully corrupted our late sovereign king, destroying his health and virtue”.’

My hand crept to my lips in dread.

‘A soldier to his backbone,’ continued Catesby. ‘Not a blow was struck. Not a drop of blood was shed. I never saw the like.’ Esteem glowed in his face, but I felt misapprehension, an emotion Hastings clearly did not share.

‘Excellent! I knew things would turn out all right. Richard has always been a cool man under fire.’ He rubbed his palms together with a smirk the Devil would have envied. ‘So, two Woodvilles under arrest already. Are they to be brought to the Tower?’

Catesby smiled like a conjurer about to lift the final walnut shell. ‘This is the clever part. They’re to be separated and sent to Gloucester’s northern strongholds as hostages.’

Ha! The Queen would be spitting. All cunningly played (and I’ll wager Gloucester had been one of those tiresome brats who beats everyone at chess). However, the thought that both the Prince and England might be stuck with ‘Uncle Gloucester’s opinions’ for the next thirty years or more was a sobering thought.

‘So where are his highness and their graces now? St Albans?’

‘No, Mistress Shore, they went back to Northampton. To await word from you, my lord. They want your assurance that London is safe for them to proceed.’

‘They’ve gone back up the road?’ Hastings looked winded. ‘With the Queen’s retinue as well?’

‘No, Gloucester paid them off from his own coffers. Every Jack of ’em will be high as kites by now, packing every tavern betwixt here and Stony Stratford. So that is my news, my lord. His grace has sent you this letter in his own hand and begs your apology for its brevity. He desires you dispatch a messenger to Prince Edward straight away.’

Hastings broke the seal. The message was short, the writing clear and Italianate. ‘Yes, indeed. Assurance they shall have.’
He glanced towards the upper window light. ‘Good, almost dawn. I can have a man with them by nightfall. Well done, Catesby. Go and get your head down. I shall see you are well rewarded for this day’s work.’

His duty done, the lawyer had started to sag. To have galloped back all that way and much of it in darkness would have wearied any man. He bowed and rallied sufficiently to bestow on me an appreciative grin before he left us.

‘That fellow will go far,’ Hastings muttered as I helped him dress.

‘Do you mean Gloucester or Catesby?’ I muttered, but he made no answer, no doubt preoccupied with the message he would send the dukes.

Left on my own when he had gone to wake his secretary, I slid back into bed wincing at the cold touch of the sheets against my skin. I nestled down, shivering with cold and unease. What would the Queen do when she heard the news from Stony Stratford?

Hastings sent in some potage for me and returned with his servants to finish dressing. He was cock-a-hoop at Gloucester’s strategy of taking hostages.

‘We’ve already had a message from the Woodvilles,’ he declared, rubbing his hands again. ‘Lionel Woodville desires an audience with me. I’ll wager you anything the Queen wants me to broker a peace between her and Richard.’

‘I should go,’ I announced. ‘And I think we should not meet again until things settle down. I wish you joy with the bishop, but take care, he has a silver tongue.’

It might be wise to flee to Hinxworth until all the noble fur and hackles settled, whisk temptation out of Hastings’ way. But then it struck me that riding north would not be safe with Grey’s dismembered retinue tottering back.

At least I must keep a discreet distance. As Ned always said,
‘Fortune’s a fickle wench. She can knee you in the groin at any time’.

Catesby was returning to his lodging as I was leaving. He escorted me partway up Paul’s Wharf Hill. The whites of his eyes were still flecked from hard riding, but he was like a man who had found the crock of gold at the foot of the rainbow. I wondered if Hastings had promised him the office at court that he so desired.

‘May I say black becomes you, Mistress Shore. It bestows a barrier that beckons crossing.’

I laughed. ‘I commend you on your stamina, Master Catesby. All the way from Stony Stratford and still game to flirt.’

‘It must be your presence that so revives me. I see you’ve changed back to your old mount.’ He nodded back down the hill to the roof of Beaumont’s Inn. ‘But, then, I guess there is little alternative for an ambitious woman.’ I made no reply to that thrust. He said nothing more until we parted at the corner of Knightrider Street. ‘We all cut our cloth to match the times, Mistress Shore. If ever I may be of comfort to you …’

‘How kind.’ I might consider him again as a lawyer; I’d never consider him a friend.

How quickly this fickle world can turn.

Later that morning, Hastings sent a messenger with a saddled horse for me and an urgent request that I ride to Beaumont’s Inn. Something must have gone awry at Northampton.

The house exuded a tomblike quiet as Hyrst silently escorted me through the great hall. I assumed all the gentlemen had gone to prepare the palace for the young king, but something was definitely wrong. In the withdrawing chamber, my ebullient Hastings
had been replaced by a morose figure, slumped in his chair with his chin on his chest and a mazer of wine between his fingers. He looked old and defeated. I could smell sweat, as though he had been riding hither and thither, and something else. Bruised male pride perhaps? Someone had badly riled him.

‘So, didn’t you make Lionel lick your soles?’ I asked when he did not stir. Narrowed eyes and a sour curl of lip preceded his answer.

‘Oh yes, he licked ’em until his tongue was raw.’ He took a swig of wine and swirled the rest, staring into the depths. ‘For two poxy hours. And you know what, Elizabeth? All the fucking time the mongrel was keeping me talking, that arsehole Dorset was at the Tower stealing Ned’s coin from the Treasury.’

Stealing
? I pulled up the stool and sat down beside him. ‘How on earth—’

‘Because he is still Deputy Constable of the Tower, curse it! By Christ, I never even thought he had the spine.’

My mind was reeling with the implications. It wasn’t that I did not believe the story, but you could not move fast with a fortune in gold and no army to protect it. ‘I don’t understand. Where could he take it?’

‘Onto a carrack, just before the tide turned. Edward Wood-ville’s taken it to sea. Hired the ship from the Genoese apparently. Idiots didn’t ask any questions. I’ve sent a letter in strong language round to their headquarters demanding they send another ship after it and order its captain to turn about.’

‘And Dorset fled with his uncle?’

He shook his head, and took another swig. ‘You haven’t heard all of it yet. Oh God, Elizabeth, Richard was relying on me and I’ve let this happen. Pour me another drink, will you?’ I refilled the wine cup and poured one for myself. Goodness, the French and Hanse pirates would be on their knees giving thanks when
they heard of such pickings sailing their way. And Ned would rock his coffin over.