‘Every man and no man deserves to die, my love.’ Andrew seated himself on the cushioned window seat, and pulled her abruptly down beside him. ‘I have known Lacy as one of Marrott’s cronies, a wood-be Woodville, always eager for self-advancement at someone else’s expense and so a useful tool. He was prepared to kill. Instead he died. There is nothing more simple than dying. And now I shall teach you how to facilitate the death of anyone who threatens you.’
She leaned her head on his shoulder. ‘I won’t be good at it, Drew. I can’t very well wear a sword, it would make me horribly conspicuous. And women are forced to be weak, aren’t they?’
He sat her up straight and frowned at her. ‘I don’t expect you to ride fully armed into battle, but defence is important, and women learn different strengths. The dowager queen, for instance. Some believe her beauty akin to saintliness but she is also hated because her marriage to the king was unsuitable, because she plundered the wealth of the country to satisfy herself and her huge burdensome family, and because she was pitilessly ruthless and utterly self-serving. Yet all the great lords behave this way and are accepted, even admired for it. Any lord’s duty is to increase his power and property. He owes it to his sons. But her highness is also hated because of her strength. Even now. She clings to sanctuary knowing the Protector blames her family for the late king’s death – yet even while she hides, she conspires. She does not accept powerlessness. She promotes assassination, since while the duke lives, the Woodvilles know they can never again hold position. Elizabeth Woodville prefers plot to rest. She surrenders only in order to manipulate and rise again.’
‘Well, I’m no queen. And I thought you disliked her, not admired her.’
‘I both dislike and admire the woman,’ Andrew said. ‘And there are others, though with fewer advantages. For instance the Countess of Richmond, Henry Tudor’s mother. Without beauty, instead she uses the mask of religious devotion. But in truth she’s more relentless than the queen. Since suffering the callous brutality of her first husband, she has never accepted surrender.’
‘Stop trying to goad me,’ objected Tyballis, sitting stiffly. ‘Just because I was such a puling little misery with Borin and put up with everything he did! Scared of the river, of my mother-in-law, and my own shadow, too, I suppose. But I was trying to be a good wife, and behave the way everyone said I ought to.’
Andrew grinned. ‘I never suspected you of such meek compliance. Becoming my mistress must surely have shattered your ideals, my love. Have I yet corrupted you entirely, I wonder?’
Tyballis punched him in the middle of his black velvet. ‘I’ve changed a lot – living with you. Borin made me feel like a useless baby – and you kept calling me a child when you knew me first. But you don’t any more, do you? Because I’ve found my courage. As for learning to kill you, there are times when it might prove very tempting. But punching you does no good at all, as if you’d bumped into a butterfly.’
‘A very pretty butterfly.’
‘Is my beauty akin to saintliness, then?’
He laughed. ‘Since beauty seduces the honest man, so it may also come from the devil.’
‘I hope you aren’t comparing yourself to an honest man, Drew?’
‘Honest to the cause I serve. And to you, little demon.’ He pulled her back into his arms, suddenly blocking the sunlight, and kissed her. ‘And I’ll not risk losing you to one of Marrott’s vicious dolts,’ he murmured to her ear. ‘So, I’ll teach you how to defend yourself as best you can – a woman with a knife she knows how to use is no butterfly. Your assailant’s size doesn’t matter if you attack him the right way. For instance, my love, instead of punching me in the ribs where you’ve no chance of wounding, you should have punched me here.’ And he took her hand, palm open, and tucked it hard between his legs.
Which was exactly when Casper Wallop walked in, with William Catesby right behind.
Mister Catesby stopped in the doorway and chuckled. ‘Well now, my Lord Feayton,’ he said. ‘It seems your life is even more interesting than I had supposed.’
Chapter Sixty-Three
‘Dorset is gone,’ Catesby said.
‘I’m surprised he waited so long.’ Andrew passed the wine jug. ‘Does his grace know? Has any blockade been erected? Have you informed my Lord Hastings?’
Catesby poured the wine. ‘I no longer wish to be associated with my Lord Hastings’ employ. I have discovered that, being out of favour with Gloucester, my lord begins to flirt with the enemy.’
‘Flirtation is invariably dangerous.’ Andrew smiled. ‘I know your lord’s temptations, Catesby, and so does the duke, for I have told him.’ He fingered the silver stem of his cup, and watched the rich crimson bubbles form across the wine’s surface. ‘I’ve also informed his grace of other matters greatly concerning the security of this realm.’ He looked up again at his companion. ‘His late highness’s unacknowledged first marriage, for instance. Naturally the duke had heard whispers since the rumours spread after their brother Clarence’s arrest many years back. However, the one incontrovertible witness to that long-denied marriage had been induced, first by imprisonment and then by reward, to keep his silence. But evidently Bishop Stillington now feels it his duty to officially inform the Protector. The late king’s bigamy will then be made public, and so the bastardy of his children, including that of the new king, will be openly acknowledged.’
‘A disaster – a catastrophe, my lord.’
‘Perhaps.’ Andrew frowned into his cup. ‘But it will immediately reduce the Woodville threat. There have been bastards on the throne before, of course, but by right of conquest not inheritance. This time – when it is realised that the new king is not only a child but a bastard child, and with France greedy across the Narrow Sea – I doubt the politically astute will clamour to crown him. A matter for the Protector, and the lords spiritual and temporal to consider. However, I hear that Hastings is further implicated to his detriment, since he winked at the king’s second marriage in full knowledge of the first. Gloucester is not pleased.’
Catesby leaned forwards. ‘He will have a great deal more to think about than old scores, and stories of Hastings’ bad behaviour.’ Catesby chewed his thumbnail. ‘If now the young king’s proven bastardy precludes him from the crown, who is next in line? Clarence’s son? But to crown another child would be unfortunate – and of an attainted father?’
‘I do not intend to assume,’ said Andrew softly. ‘I am not a member of Parliament nor of Council, and my lord duke’s trust in me does not stretch to discussing such momentous matters. But I tell you this, Catesby. You might be wise to start loosening yourself from Hastings’ increasingly dubious reputation. Those of his household may begin to share in his disfavour.’
For a week the weather improved as spring slithered towards summer. Showers washed the rancid effluent from the city gutters, and the sun sparkled across the puddles. The nervous unrest, armed gangs and contradictory rumours fell quiet. Peace settled tentatively across the capital. The political turmoil now bubbling beneath the placid veneer remained hidden, and the newly contented people, assuming justice and a strong leader, breathed deep and went about their usual business. The Woodvilles were quashed, the Protector now protected the realm and all seemed right with the world.
Through a series of intermediaries, the Protector had opened negotiations with her highness the dowager queen, offering promises of safekeeping should she choose to relinquish sanctuary and attend her son. The young king, now housed in the royal apartments at The Tower, enjoyed neither the comfort of his mother nor the companionship of his younger brother. The little Duke of York remained in sanctuary, and his mother refused all pleas for either him, or herself to re-enter the world. She feared not only accusations but arrest and open condemnation. Instead she remained safe from public scrutiny, plotting the Duke of Gloucester’s destruction.