Mistress to the Crown (45 page)

‘Proclamation, Jack? What proclamation?’

I expected Lynom to distance himself, but he came to see me next day. There was a heaviness in his face that I had never glimpsed before. He did not remove his cloak so I guessed he would not remain long within my contaminated presence. Maybe this was the last time we would meet.

‘I have heard there’s a proclamation, Master Lynom. It would be useful to know the exact wording.’

His mouth tightened and from out of his hanging sleeve he drew a small roll of parchment. ‘I had this copied for you.’

I hoped my hand would not tremble as I took it from him.

The proclamation had been issued in Leicester. King Richard was offering a £1000 for the capture of Buckingham and 1000 marks for each of the bishops, John Morton and Lionel Woodville,
and the great rebel, Dorset, ‘who holds the unshameful and mischievous woman called Shore’s wife in adultery’. I read on in increasing horror; the words ‘Traitor, Adulterer and Bawd’ scorched my sight. Jack had spared me that.

‘Oh, Christ Almighty!’

‘Here!’ Lynom pushed the stool beneath me and lifted the parchment from my lifeless fingers.

‘It’s as good as my death warrant, isn’t it?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ he said, making no excuses for his master. ‘Yes, it possibly is.’

IV

Lynom muttered something before he left me but I was too stunned to listen. I sat staring at the wall as though my wits had gone, too weary to conjure up useless hope. Why had God bound me so cruelly to Buckingham and Dorset’s wheels of Fate?

I do not know how long I sat there in a daze – hours, for sure – before the bolts rattled back and Lynom stepped in again. His clothing smelled of the outside air, his hair was ruffled, and his face showed exertion.

‘Elizabeth, are you ill?’ He unstrapped a flask from his belt and pressed into my hands. When I made no move, he fastened my fingers round the leather sides and lifted it to my lips. Aqua vitae. It burned my throat and brought me back to living.

‘I’m here to help you.’

Ha! He had sufficient evidence to burn me as a sorceress. Table the copies of Ned’s letters, dump black Hercules on the judges’ bench. Easy! As for treason, my own admission that the beggar was Dorset was sufficient.

‘Indeed, Master Lynom? Help me? I think you should wish yourself a thousand leagues away.’

But he stood there, looking down at me with goodly concern. ‘Can’t you bring yourself to trust me?’

How I wished I might. In a different world.

‘Isn’t your king’s trust sufficient, sir?’

He ignored that comment. ‘Well, I have news to cheer you. I’ve just come from Westminster Sanctuary and I’ve spoken to Nesfield and Princess Elizabeth. They confirm everything you have told me. That is why I am willing to help you.’

I did not answer. My instincts were telling me he was sincere yet it was in his interest to please King Richard and escort me to the scaffold.

‘Madame?’

O God, give me reason. Could I trust him? Had the return of my clothes, my letters, my necklace been part of a clever stratagem at first or. Or just decent human kindness? And maybe in that moment, I knew that slowly, unwittingly, I was growing to care very much for this man and if … if Lynom’s promise to help me was golden and true, then I would be heartless to embroil him further. Shakily I rose to face him. ‘Don’t sport with me any further, Crown Solicitor. The King thinks me evil, the King wants me silenced and he will have it so.’

‘As I’ve said before, you misjudge him as you misjudge me, I think.’ He reached out his gloved hand and lifted my face. ‘Trust your instinct, Elizabeth, please.’

Could I? My head ached with too much thinking. Down in the yard, the head gaoler was bawling foul abuse at my fellow prisoners. I wanted to cry. Their world, my world, all was so wrong, so wrong. No future for any of us.

‘Elizabeth.’ Lynom’s hand was on my sleeve. ‘Listen, I have brought the notary back. You must make a deposition. What you told me earlier. Begin at the beginning.’

I let him sit me down again and I missed his touch when his hands left me.

It was the same notary. He came in warily and kept his distance this time, guarding his inkpot.

Lynom began to interrogate me in a gentle manner and listen to what I told him with his full attention. Not with judgment this time, either. It was a slow business with the notary scratching away in the corner. And as we waited for the man to finish each of my answers, Lynom’s blue eyes met mine with understanding and gazing back, I found myself wishing for all the world he were neither a lawyer nor King Richard’s creature.

Only the curfew bell brought respite from his questions.

‘You’ve done well,’ he exclaimed, signalling the notary to leave. ‘We’ll finish this tomorrow. Try to get a good night’s sleep, Mistress Shore.’

‘Wait, sir. I have a question.’ He halted at the door and turned round to face me. ‘If … if we had met as pilgrims on the road to Walsingham, would you have asked me to dine with you?’

Despite a weariness that equalled mine, his blue eyes kindled a sinful smile. ‘Yes, I probably would and mayhap much else, besides.’ For an instant, I swear he desired to vanquish the pace of floor between us and take me in his arms. ‘And would you have agreed?’

I smiled. ‘Yes, I believe I might have, Master Lynom.’

Will was sceptical of Lynom’s sudden conversion to the Order of St Elizabeth Lambard. My basket of daily bread arrived with my brother next day together with a warning on leading men into temptation. By ‘men’ he meant Lynom.

‘You should not be encouraging a crown solicitor to take such a personal interest in your circumstances, Lizbeth,’ he lectured me as I ate.

‘The Crown Solicitor, Will, is not in swaddling bands,’ I retorted, brushing the crumbs from my lips, but my brother had his holier-than-thou earflaps turned down.

‘Indeed, no, sister, but God has given him better tasks to do than hang around your skirts. He has been telling me that speaking with the prisoners here has convinced him that changes need to be made. He is going to propose to the King that a suspected felon’s property should not be seized when he’s arrested. No, let me finish,’ Will insisted, as I drew breath. ‘He also considers that if a man’s friends and family are willing to put up a bond, then a man should be at liberty until he is tried. Once the present troubles are dealt with, he is hoping that King Richard will consider placing these proposals before Parliament.’

I was speechless. St Thomas Lynom might be donning a halo in the mornings but it was still in front of
my
looking-glass.

‘Lizbeth?’

‘Oh, I hope the King will listen,’ I murmured. ‘And I am listening, too, Will.’

‘Amen to that, then,’ applauded my brother, ‘for you are still a daughter of Eve and your wiles are awakening Master Lynom’s lust. Do not lead him into sin. Remember, his duty is to God and his king and not to you.’

With that, he thumbed a cross on my indignant brow and took his leave.

I think his warning had come too late to purge any thoughts of lust or love from my mind or body. I had begun to listen for Tom Lynom’s boots upon the stair like a little dog cocking her head for her master.

Lynom visited that evening just before curfew. He brought wine to share and looked pleased with himself. I sat down upon my palliasse and hoped he had good news.

‘I’ve found several of the Lord Bastard’s former attendants willing to verify that he sent for you,’ he informed me as he filled my cup. ‘Things are beginning to look up.’

I was grateful but I was not saddling my hopes. A vengeful king could override justice.

‘All thanks to you,’ I replied, lifting my wine in libation to this legal demi-god. It was good to relax my fears for a little space. ‘Did you know you are slowly restoring my faith in lawyers. It’s like the road to Damascus.’

He had become used to my humour. ‘Then you should be blind by now.’

‘That’s not what makes you blind, Crown Solicitor,’ I purred.

‘Shrew,’ he replied kindly, propping himself against the wall and taking a swig.

‘You’ve had a busy day?’

‘Does the sun stop moving?’ He wiped his knuckles across his lips. ‘And there seems to be a sudden dearth of wherrymen tonight. I waited half an hour at Westminster.’

‘It’s St Crispin’s Day.’

‘So?’

‘Maybe they are all getting their shoes mended or celebrating Agincourt.’

He shook his head at my folly. ‘Buckingham’s been caught near Shrewsbury, by the way – on the farm of a servant. The fellow turned him in for the reward. He’s to be taken to the King at Salisbury.’

I did not answer. Could Gloucester forgive? I doubted that. The betrayer betrayed.

‘By the Lord, what a damnably odd world this is.’ Lynom languidly traced the uneven surface of the wall. ‘The King gave him trust, love, authority, made him his right-arm man. I wouldn’t have risked all that. What’s your reckoning?’

I sighed remembering Hastings’ assessment. ‘Maybe all Buckingham wanted was respect and all he ever expected was dislike.’

‘That’s a strange answer. Richard gave him respect a thousandfold.’

‘In here.’ I pointed to my heart. ‘Buckingham didn’t have it in here. You do.’

He pulled a face. ‘Even though I’m a lawyer.’

I bowed my head to him in sport and he came to stand looking down on me.

‘I’ve been wondering something else. When you are acquitted, what will you do?’

Acquitted? Ha! ‘Offer my services to the Archduke Maximillian or King James of Scotland,’ I teased.

‘Hell, I believe you could,’ he laughed. ‘But, indulge me, could you live an ordinary life?’

‘Of course,’ I said, savouring my wine. ‘It wasn’t easy, being one of the King’s mistresses. Lonely, most of the time. But two of the greatest men in the kingdom gave me love and valued my opinions. That was a gift beyond riches.’

‘And you loved them both.’ Had Lynom ever loved? I wondered. It was not the first time that thought had tiptoed through my mind.

‘Yes, sir, I did.’ I rose to face him. ‘In truth, I didn’t want to become Ned’s mistress, not really. It just happened, but it was the only way I could free myself from Shore.’

Lynom’s eyes widened. ‘Hell, you did it for that?’

‘Mainly, but I was seeking affection, too.’

If I took a step closer, this lawyer would kiss me, no question. Instead, I took a turn about my tiny kingdom, out of arm’s reach.

‘Don’t tell you didn’t want the power and riches?’ he asked.

‘I confess I enjoyed both, but being trapped in here has given me perspective. I thought riches would hedge me against adversity but with one stroke of a pen, pfft. All gone to a stranger.’ I watched guilt redden his face. ‘And don’t apologise. Look, if I walk out of here, Master Lynom, it will be with nothing but my brothers’ charity, and yet, you know, it doesn’t bother me anymore.’

‘It bothers me.’

‘Because you have all my goods?’ I stepped towards him.
‘There, I absolve you.’ He snared my hand as I traced a cross upon his forehead.

‘Elizabeth?’ My name was a caress upon his lips.

I knew Lynom wanted to lie with me. He knew my body ripened towards him, understood the play of power between us. Except … in the world outside he might cavort with whomsoever he pleased, whereas I … I slept in prison with King Richard’s hatred watching me like an invisible presence. Waiting.

‘Elizabeth?’ It would only take a kiss to ignite an affair between us. An affair? A very short affair? And then?

The curfew bell began to ring from St Mary’s.

I tugged my hand free and stepped away. ‘Goodnight, sir.’

V

Buckingham was executed in the market place at Salisbury on the Feast of All Souls. I could not forgive him for destroying those whom Ned had loved; he would surely roast in Hell. The news of his beheading terrified me. It meant the King would soon be back in London and I’d be put on trial. Lynom had said nothing to affright me, but I knew that if Dorset had slipped through the net, I would be the scapegoat. There was a precedent: Lord Rivers and Sir Richard Grey had been hostages for the Queen’s good behaviour, but after the alleged plot between Hastings, the Woodvilles and I, they had been executed.

That night, fear of death was my bedfellow once again and the following day no better. I could not get warm, despite the extra blankets Will had brought me. Calling in on his way back from the Chancellery, Lynom found me shivering and unable to hide my utter despair.

‘We have to get you out of here,’ he muttered. ‘Some of the other prisoners are coming down with gaol fever.’

‘Why do you bother with me?’ I cried, turning my face to the wall as he crouched to chafe my hands.

‘Firstly,’ he declared, ‘it’s the turnips. Secondly, the lavender bush. Thirdly, uncommon sense.’

‘Wh-what?’ I turned my face, confused and a little angry that he was mocking me.

‘I feel guilty at eating your turnips.’ He slid a finger beneath my chin. ‘And the rest. Cheer up!’ He hauled me to my feet. ‘I’ve brought you a present.’

A trivet! The apparatus to warm a small pan of spiced ale. I watched with tears trickling down my cheeks as he struck a flint and set the pan in place. ‘Have you warm in no time.’ Then he gathered me into his arms, chafing my back vigorously until I squealed for mercy.

‘So, the lavender bush?’ I asked him as I struggled to keep my sanity. My sanity, yes. Oh, I realised that I had slowly been falling in love with him. His many kindnesses had battered down the keep of my mistrust and the way he looked at me whenever we were together now was undermining the towers and walls that I had set between us. It had always been there, that … that alchemy, except I had refused to acknowledge it.

‘Ah, the lavender bush.’ The answer waited while he transferred the warmed ale to my cup. ‘Well, you looked so damned adorable kneeling there, but what I liked was that after you’d unearthed your coffer, you patted back the earth apologetically around the roots so the bush wouldn’t die.’

‘It was so no one would notice.’

‘You do argue. Tell me it was not done with consideration even though your business was urgent.’