The Innocent (52 page)

“I am, mistress. Very well.” She sat as if it were the most natural thing in the world—again he was taken aback. He was the chamberlain of England, he took precedence over nearly everyone at court except members of the blood family—and the bishops, of course. Normally people waited for him to sit. Was that a slightly mischievous glint he saw in her eye as she waved him to a chair slightly lower than her own?

“Do you come from the king?” She sounded calm, one hand smoothing the nap of her dress so that the rich fabric caught lights from the fire in its lustrous depths.

Her directness left him no escape. “Yes, mistress. I do. I have this for you.”

He had to get up if he was to hand her the letter, she showed no sign of rising to take it from him. “I shall read it presently. Hot wine, Lord William? The abbot keeps a good cellar here; sanctuary is pleasant in this Abbey…”

“Thank you. I should appreciate that—the day is cold.”

Anne picked up a little bell and rang it, but before the last clear notes had finished, Walter hurried in.

He was only too delighted to help serve this beautiful and mysterious lady for the abbot.

“Brother Walter, please fetch hot wine for the Lord Chamberlain. And ask Deborah to attend me here.”

A meditative silence followed the man’s exit that Anne made no attempt to fill as she stared into the flames.

William saw that he would have to be the one to speak. “Lady, no good will come of opposing the king.”

“No good, Lord William? How can that be, if the will of the king is contrary to God’s law?”

The chamberlain was so astonished by her calm, he forgot to be angry at her words. “Anne, the king wishes you no harm, but he must protect his kingdom from any more upset. You must see that. This is his duty, to his people. He is the Lord’s anointed king.”

Now she turned on him fiercely. “And what about my father? Was he not anointed too?”

That silenced the man for a moment; there was no answer he could offer that would expunge the fact that she was right. He tried another tack. “Lady, will you not read the king’s letter?”

Walter returned with a wooden platter. On it was food and a large tankard filled up with wine that steamed and smelled of cloves and cinnamon bark from the far-distant spice islands.

She thought for a moment, looking at him meditatively. Then nodded. “Very well. It shall be as you wish.”

He rose and handed the letter to her, and as he ate and drank, she broke the red wafer sealing it and smoothed out the single sheet on her lap. William half closed his eyes; the picture she made in her dark dress with her white hands touching the cream vellum was very appealing. Skin like that, smooth, clean, and white, was rare. It would feel very pleasing under his hand. Perhaps when the king was tired of this girl he could…He shook his head to clear it. This was no ordinary woman to tumble anymore.

This body, these eyes, that mouth—they were all a distraction from the danger she represented. The sooner she was found a loyal husband, or a nunnery, the safer they’d all be.

The king’s letter was brief, tense, and distant. “Madam, your decision to take sanctuary was ill-advised.

You will not help your cause, for soon you must leave the safety of the Abbey, and where will you go then? If you see sense, you shall be offered one more chance. On receipt of the letters confirming your identity, an honorable marriage will be arranged for you with a man of property; the Cuttifers shall live at peace and Jehanne will be permitted to retire to her family’s holdings. All this provided you agree to sign a contract that bars you from speaking of any blood connection you might have had with the former king during the whole of your lifetime, including in the confessional.

“If you fail to agree with the terms by the day of the Saint Valentine’s tourney, then you will never be offered such consideration again, and you and yours will be confirmed and detained as traitors. Once out of sanctuary, you will be banished from the kingdom and never permitted to return. And you will be responsible for the deaths of your friends, for they will assuredly be burned.” It was signed “Edward R.”

It took all Anne’s self-control to show nothing on her face as she read the king’s words. He had ignored much of what she had said in her letter to him, and the spare clarity of his tone, the unsentimental phrases, reinforced the strength of the adversary she had taken on. Carefully, she folded the letter and stood up, allowing William a moment to scramble to his feet before she said, “Please tell the king I shall think on his words. However, you may tell him that marriage is not part of my plans at this time.”

William’s heart squeezed in his chest. Her tone was polite, distant, but firm. The implication was there: Edward could wait as long as he liked but she did not intend to fall in with his plans for her future.

As a soldier, William knew how important it was never to show a weak face to the enemy—to be ruthless was more important than to be right. This girl had an iron core. She didn’t get it from her father, but her grandfather had had it, knew how to use it.

And where Mathew and Margaret were concerned, and Jehanne, well, it was clear she was daring Edward to act against them. There was no obedience in this girl, none at all.

Chapter Forty-one

Two days before the tourney and Elizabeth Wydeville was restless and annoyed with everything. Green was the color of love and since she was to be the Queen of Love above the lists on Saint Valentine’s Day, she’d had an elaborate dress made in heavy green velvet. However, the weight of the skirt and train made it difficult to walk. It was also a very expensive dress, even by her standards, because she’d had thirteen great emeralds sewn onto the bodice in honor of her husband and the twelve who would fight with him in the affray. And this was a problem. Lately the king had grown tedious about the matter of her household expenses—something he never had before—and she was in despair, taking this as yet another example of his waning affection.

So it was a welcome distraction from her worries when her new senior body attendant, Marceline—a timid, colorless woman in her thirties—hurried in to the robing room with most intriguing news. There was a mysterious, beautiful lady in sanctuary at the Abbey—and Doctor Moss was with her. It was said that the lady was hiding from the wrath of the king, and so was Doctor Moss. The source of this information was impeccable. Marceline had it from her own brother, Walter, who waited on the abbot.

The queen scowled, and Marceline gulped. Perhaps she’d been overeager to share the information she’d been given.

“Doctor Moss had better look to his future. It is not only the wrath of the king he should fear. What is the name of this lady?” The queen’s tone was frigid.

Poor, timid Marceline shuddered. “The lady’s name is Anne, Your Majesty.”

“Anne?” The queen was very still for a moment. It was a common name, of course, but it had resonance. Oh, yes, it had resonance.

The king and William Hastings were poring over a set of rutters, maps of sea-trading routes, in Edward’s tiny private room when, to the surprise of both men, the queen was announced. The queen never visited her husband in his private quarters unless invited.

Edward signaled that William should take the rutters and leave. They would revisit them later when both had more leisure to explore the intriguing idea of a sea passage to India that went west rather than east. He settled his face into an approximate mask of welcome.

Elizabeth glided into the king’s little office with a glittering smile on her face. He knew that look and it made him impatient—it meant she was angry but biding her time, waiting for the moment she could play her hand to the maximum advantage.

“Well, madam, this is an honor for your husband.” He mustered the courtesy to bow deeply, and sweep her into his own carved chair.

“Well, husband, I’ve had an idea.”

He knew that tone as well, it was sweet as honey and there was much display of fine white teeth as she smiled—she’d escaped the fate of many women with more than one child and kept her teeth thus far.

That tone meant significant trouble.

“Husband, I wish to go to the Abbey to contemplate the Holy Girdle of the Mother of God, so that I may ask the blessing and protection of Mary for our baby. How fortunate I was that the good brothers let me gaze upon it when our daughter was being born. It gave me such strength. I wish us to thank them together…the people would enjoy the sight of us united, at prayer…”

“A worthy thought, Elizabeth.” He had learned not to oppose her ideas at first discussion; she sulked too long. “When would you like to go to the Abbey?”

“Why, now, this morning. William told me last night that today would be easy for you. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve let the new abbot know to expect us shortly.” She smiled up at him shyly, the picture of a gentle, obedient wife.

It was only rarely in his life that Edward had experienced events spiraling out of his control. Normally he took the forward stance, others followed, but now he hesitated and that was enough for the queen.

“William, call the servants! The king is coming with me to pray at the Abbey.”

It seemed he was, for his wife whirled him out of his private rooms surrounded by a small train of courtiers, and very soon he was walking beside her through Westminster Hall and out across the abbey garth. He could have turned back, could have made an excuse about unfinished business, but there was a terrible drag in his belly toward the Abbey and the abbot’s lodgings. Truthfully, he burned to see Anne again, and if the queen were to be the means…He shrugged, curiously fatalistic. Elizabeth had thrown the dice. Did she know? She never gambled unless she thought she could win, but his history said he had excellent luck at games of chance.

Brother Walter was all atwitter in the Abbot’s lodgings. He had heard that the queen and king were praying together in the Lady Chapel before the reliquary that contained the Girdle of the Holy Virgin—

and that shortly his master, John Millington, would be entertaining the royal couple in the Jerusalem Chamber. This posed Walter and his master a problem, for Anne was in sanctuary because of the king.

The question had become, how should this awkward and unexpected series of events be handled?

Anne solved the problem for both men. She would withdraw to her sleeping quarters—a spartan little monk’s cell up under the eaves of the abbot’s lodging—and wait out the visit. There was no need for John Millington to fear the embarrassment of her presence. And no one had to prompt Doctor Moss to make himself scarce.

So now, as the brief, bright morning wore away, the queen and her husband had arrived with their suite and were sipping mulled Burgundy wine and eating sweetmeats in the abbot’s finest room, as discreet chatter from their party created a pleasant hum. Elizabeth was at her captivating best—dignified but warmly affectionate to her husband, charming to the abbot—while the king sank further and further into silence as he stood by the fire beside his wife’s chair.

He could sense Anne in this room. There was a piece of embroidery on a gate-legged table that must be hers, and try as he might to stop, his eyes wandered far too often to the door that led into the abbot’s private quarters.

“Lord Abbot, we hear you have a guest in sanctuary. A beautiful and mysterious lady. Who can she be?

Do we know her? Perhaps she would like to join us for a beaker of this excellent wine.” The queen was light, flirtatious, smiling radiantly around the room as if to say, well, new, here is a new game for us all to play!

The abbot was deeply uncomfortable. Sanctuary was a holy right available for all Christians. To speak as the queen was doing—as if implying that his sheltering a penitent within his Abbey was equivalent to housing a charming house guest—was to trivialize the sanctity of what was offered. And Anne was here to escape the king himself. Edward saw the abbot’s discomfort and saved him the need to reply.

“It is Doctor Millington’s business, my dear, to whom he grants sanctuary. And now I fear I must return to my work. If you wish to pray more, I shall leave this suite of gentlemen to escort you back to the palace, when you are ready.”

It was seen by all in that room, including the queen, that the king’s patience was finally exhausted with the little charade that was taking place. Without another glance at Elizabeth, Edward strode from the chamber, quickly followed by William Hastings, leaving the queen to bite her lips in frustration at her husband’s sudden, graceless exit. As usual, he’d made a tactical retreat—a sensitive feint during combat but aggravating within the field of marriage. She would question him later, back at the palace.

But the king did not go back to his rooms at the palace. He walked quickly across the abbot’s private yard and through the cloisters, startling the brothers, then strode down the stairs and along the dark tunnel of the undercroft. These were the earliest parts of the Abbey, hundreds of years old, and they housed the Chapel of the Pyx, the door of which was hastily opened for him by the cellarer he’d found in the cloisters. Dismissing the monk, Edward turned to William with a simple instruction: “Bring Anne to me.”

William generally knew better than to question his master in such a mood—he’d rarely seen him so angry—but he was unwise enough to try to express an opinion. “Sire, if the queen is still in the abbot’s lodgings…”

Edward looked piercingly at his chamberlain. “I’ll wait.”

In the hour that followed, his anger dwindled and his impatience grew and grew until he was pacing the low-vaulted chamber like an animal that had not been fed. Finally the door of the chamber was eased open by the abbot himself and behind him was the cloaked and veiled figure of a woman.

The abbot was very nervous and it took all his skill as a courtier to hide his fear from the king. “Sire, the lady you have asked to see has agreed to this meeting. I shall remain present as God’s vicar of this place.”

The king shot him a fierce glance. “No, Master Abbot, you shall not. The business this lady and I have will remain between us, and God.”