Royal Mistress (54 page)

D
espite their initial misgivings, Londoners could not resist a festive occasion, and they flocked to Westminster to catch a glimpse of the new king. They watched as Richard, clothed in purple and heralded by trumpets and tabors, walked barefoot along the red carpet from the palace to the abbey, followed by the highest magnates on his council bearing the royal regalia: the swords of state, justice, and mercy; the mace; the scepter; and at last the jeweled crown borne by the newest duke in the kingdom, John Howard, now duke of Norfolk. Henry Stafford, duke of Buckingham, had the honor of carrying Richard’s train, and Margaret Beaufort, Lady Stanley, carried the queen’s.

When the great bells of the ancient abbey dedicated to St. Peter signaled the new king was anointed and crowned, carillons from the hundred churches throughout the city pealed in unison. Not long afterward, Richard and Anne stepped out through the west door, their crowns glinting in the July sunshine, and a roar of “God save the king” filled the dusty, unpaved streets of Westminster. Richard waved right and left as he walked back to the palace great hall under an elaborately embroidered canopy held by the wardens of the Cinque Ports.

Elizabeth, ensconced in her sanctuary on the other side of the wall in the abbey, hid her head under a pillow and begged her daughters to sing songs as loudly as they could to drown out the joyful bells and earsplitting cheers.

As a “Te Deum” from the choir filtered through the ancient
stones at one point, she cried, “It should have been for my son. It should have been for Ned.” All she could hope now was that Richard would release her boys to her, but she had not heard another word from him since she had been demoted to plain Dame Grey. And stubbornly, she refused to leave sanctuary.

At the other end of the city behind the high gray walls of the Tower, her son, who had been denied his throne and even a place at the coronation for fear of confusing the populace, sank to his knees upon hearing the bells and feared for his and his little brother’s future.

A
few days later, the royal household floated in a colorful flotilla of pageantry down the Thames to Greenwich to plan the route of Richard’s royal progress through England, and London returned to its routine.

When Jane heard from Sophie that Richard had left Westminster, she panicked. “Sweet Jesu, what is to become of me now?” she asked her friend. “Am I to rot here in Ludgate for the rest of my days? I cannot believe it has come to this.”

“Hush,
lieveling,
all vill be well,” Sophie soothed. “You vill not be forgotten, you see. I have prayed to Saint Catherine for you,” she added, knowing the saint especially favored spinners like herself. Sophie had a hard time not wrinkling her nose at her friend’s rank odor. She could not begin to understand how Jane had borne her new circumstance so valiantly after the life of luxury she had led. All Sophie could do was bring cheerful news of the Vandersand family and gossip from the market and the Mercery.

“Your Tom has been good to Jehan, Jane. He is pleased with the Pope’s Head lodging, and he has asked me about you,” Sophie told the listless Jane, whose face lit up at the mention of his name. It was true, Tom had enquired about Jane’s whereabouts when he had first arrived at the Pope’s Head after finding the Thames Street house vacant, but he had not been by St. Sithe’s Lane since.
Sophie did not think Jane needed to know all that, so she held her thumbs at the white lie.

“Do you think he will come here, Sophie?”

Sophie shook her head. “You must not hope for it,
lieveling.
He must be hidden.” After a few days, it had seemed to Sophie that Richard had given up the search for the marquess, supposing he would have fled to Europe by now. But still, Tom could not afford to wander the streets. She quickly changed the subject. “Here, my dear, have some good bread from my oven,” she said, and she took a loaf wrapped in a cloth from her basket and pressed it into Jane’s hands. “I must go now, Jane. I come back very soon,
ja.
”

As soon as Jane returned to her pallet, she began to break up the yeasty bread to share with the other prisoners. She did this anytime a visitor brought her food, and even the hardened strumpets had warmed to the king’s whore. For all her fine clothes, Jane did not put on airs, big-bosomed Betty had decided, although after almost a month, Betty had teased Jane, the one-time favorite of the king looked just as bedraggled as the rest of them.

Jane lay down on her straw and nibbled at her bread although she did not feel like eating. Why had Tom not even sent a letter with Sophie? What had he thought when he learned she was in prison? He had found a way to escape sanctuary; could he not find a way to free her? She had helped him; why could he not help her? She did not dare wonder if he had used her. Thoughts of him and a reunion were the only rays of hope for her in these dismal surroundings.

Dear God, how had she sunk so low? Her sinful life must have led her here, she determined, and had more than once promised Him that she would reform once she was at liberty. But then why was she imagining lying with Tom? She had squeezed her eyes shut and was trying to pray when the warden unexpectedly appeared at the barred door to the large cell.

“Jane Shore, step up. The king’s attorney is waiting to question
you,” the man barked, startling Jane from her trance. She rose, gave Betty the pieces of bread to parcel out, and smoothed out her soiled skirts.

“Good luck, Jane!” several inmates called after her as the door was unlocked and she slipped through to follow the warden.

Thomas Lyneham was staring out of the barred slit of a window when Jane was shoved inside a small holding room. Chestnut hair curled thickly from under the lawyer’s tall felt hat, the latest fashion from Burgundy, and Jane noticed his strong shapely hands clasped behind his back before he swung round to greet her.

“You may go, sirrah,” he told the warden, who was hovering behind Jane, hoping to hear the exchange. Jane stood straight and noted the lawyer’s square jaw, full mouth, and warm brown eyes before she lowered her own eyes and dropped a small curtsey.

Thomas Lyneham had heard of Jane Shore when he had been a young law student at the Chancery, but moving directly into the employ of Richard of Gloucester in the north, he had never set eyes on her. Even with her unkempt hair, torn garments, and blackened fingernails, he recognized her loveliness. When his silence invited her to raise her eyes to his, he could not make up his mind if they were the color of the sea below Richard’s castle of Scarborough or of a lake close to where he had grown up. He realized he was staring and quickly cleared his throat.

“My name is Thomas Lyneham and I am his grace King Richard’s solicitor.” His northern burr compelled Jane to pay more attention to his words, and she cocked her head to concentrate more fully. “Mistress Shore, have you been told why you are here?”

“For engaging in witchcraft with the queen, sir, although ’tis false. I have never believed in witchcraft, and I have only met the queen on one occasion many years ago,” Jane said and grimaced. “It is not a pleasant memory.”

Lyneham hid a smile; he could well imagine an uncomfortable meeting between the king’s wife and his mistress.

“You will be pleased to hear that no one has come forward to help prove that charge, but”—he held up his hand as he saw relief on her face—“I regret to inform you that you are also accused of harlotry.”

Jane was indignant. “Aye, sir, but I was unaware ’twas a crime.”

Thomas was surprised; did she not comprehend the trouble she was in? There was no hint of defiance nor of fear in her voice, but more important, he saw no evidence of seductiveness in her demeanor. In fact, she was behaving as any upright freewoman might who had been gaoled merely for failure to pay her debts. True, her beauty was unmistakable, but she could not help that God-given gift. He found himself feeling sorry for the woman, although, like his master the new king, he had a sober streak in him and had been shocked by the immorality of Edward’s court upon his arrival with Richard in May. Thus, he had no qualms about carrying out his duty.

“The king has graciously allowed me to deliver your sentence in private here in Ludgate. It seems you have a friend at court, mistress, who spoke kindly to the king on your behalf.”

Jane was puzzled. “I was unaware I had any friends left at court, Master Lyneham.” Suddenly a rhyme came to her and, without thinking, she began to recite,

“The king’s whore

She is no more,

For she hath fallen far.

On silken sheets she used to lay

But now her bed it is of hay,

And her fate is in the stars.

Poor, poor Mistress Shore!”

Thomas could not stop himself and let loose a throaty laugh that made Jane think of Will. She smiled despite herself. “Pay me no mind, Master Lyneham. I conjure verses to amuse myself. But
I would know who spoke for me at court, now that the two men, who, as you know, might have are dead.”

His laughter died. “Do you admit your harlotry, then?”

“I cannot deny it, and I am resigned to paying the usual fine—though how, I do not know, as I am told all my goods have been confiscated.” Unsure her box of treasures remained hidden, she chose not to mention it. It was her hope for the future, and she would not give it up unless she were forced to. But she also hoped she would avoid the other customary punishment: time in the stocks. She looked steadily at the lawyer. “What have I ever done to Richard of Gloucester that he hates me so, Master Lyneham? I would know, if you please.”

“His grace found his brother’s court to be dissolute, Mistress Shore, and believes you and his chamberlain corrupted the late king’s morals and hastened his death. King Richard is convinced ’tis God’s will that he cleanse the court of impiety, corruption and”—he hesitated—“and . . .”

“. . . harlots like me,” Jane finished, and Thomas nodded. “So I am to be his scapegoat?”

Thomas was taken aback by her quick and accurate comprehension, and he decided to end the interview; the woman’s beauty and wit were unsettling. “There will be no fine, mistress. The king has decreed that you do penance for your sinful behavior upon Sunday next, when you will leave here and walk through the streets in naught but your shift, carrying a taper and be humbled in front of your fellow citizens. You will finish your penance inside Saint Paul’s, where you will confess your crime to God and his bishop and beg forgiveness. Do you understand?”

He saw by her pallor that she did. “In naught but my shift, sir?” she repeated, horrified. She had not heard of such a penance for a harlot in all her years in London. She blushed as she realized how much the transparent garment would reveal. “But ’twould be as if I were naked.”

Thomas was perplexed by her modesty. Surely a woman whose body was her living would not be as embarrassed as Mistress Shore appeared to be. He was intrigued. “That is the punishment, mistress, and it could be worse, for then you will be free to go. May God forgive you and help you mend your ways.”

He called to the guard to open the door, gave Jane a curt bow, and left her staring at the agonized face of Christ on the crucifix opposite her. The warden had to drag her on trembling legs upstairs and throw her back down carelessly among the stinking rushes.

It was Betty who hurried forward and gently helped Jane to her feet. “Courage, mistress,” she insisted when she learned of Jane’s fate. “I have endured the stocks for a day. Your penance will not last but an hour and then you will be free. Think only of that. Freedom, Jane!”

Jane gave her new friend a grateful smile. “You are kind, Betty. But I fear there is no woman who is completely free in this life. ’Tis men who decide our fate.”

S
ophie came to see Jane the day before the penance, and bribing one of the guards, she was able to bring a bucket of water with some ash soap and help Jane wash herself before her ordeal. Master Davies and Betty held Jane’s and Sophie’s cloaks up to shield the two women from prying eyes, and Jane was grateful most of all to have her long, golden hair clean again.