"Johnny - I don't know," she said sighing. "What shall I do?"
" 'Twould make it easier for you!" he said slowly. Under the new golden fuzz his fair cheeks flushed. "I can't protect you as I would." He gulped and flushed redder, began to twiddle with the flap of his quill case. "But I will! Wait, you'll see! I'll earn my knighthood some way. Mother, I can best all the lads tilting at the quintain. Mother, let me enter the Saint George Day's tournament at Windsor, let me wear plain armour - no one shall guess that I'm - I'm-" Baseborn. He did not say it, it hovered in the air between them.
"We'll see, dear," she said, trying to smile. John's dreams were impractical, but he should at least be attached to some good knight as squire, someone who would honour his royal blood and not take advantage of his friendless position.
And the two other boys. She looked at Harry, sprawled on his stomach by the fire, reading as usual. He had ink on his duckling-yellow forelock, ink stains and penknife cuts on his grimy hands. A true scholar was Harry, with a keen shrewd mind beyond his years. He gulped knowledge insatiably, and yet retained it. He was determined to go to Cambridge, to Peterhouse, and train for minor orders at least; any further advancement in the clergy would take great influence - and money. A bastard could not advance in the Church without them. Bastardy. How often had she tried to console the elder boys as they had grown into realisation of the barrier that held them back from their ambitions, pointing out that they were not nameless, that their father had endowed them with a special badge, the Beaufort portcullis, and a coat of arms, three royal leopards on a bar. She reminded them that William of Normandy, England's conqueror, was not true-born. These arguments seemed to comfort the boys. At least they had both ceased to distress her with laments. But they were thoughtful of her always. In their different ways, they loved her dearly.
Tamkin was still too young to fret about his birth. He was a happy-go-lucky child anyway, and at ten lived in a boy's world of sport and play. A healthy young puppy, Tamkin, and at the moment engaged in teasing Harry by rolling dried acorns across his book. This ended in a scuffle, and then a rough-house. Chairs were overturned, the floor rushes flew about the pommelling, shouting whirl of arms and legs when Robert Sutton walked in.
"By God, lady!" he cried above the rumpus, " 'Tis like the mad cell at the Malandry in here! Your lads show you scant respect."
Tamkin and Harry disentangled themselves abruptly. They stood up panting, red-faced. "We mean our lady mother no disrespect, Master Robert," said Harry arranging his torn tunic, and eyeing the wool merchant coldly.
Robert, glancing at Katherine's watchful face, changed his tone. "Good, good. I'm sure you don't. Boys will be boys, ha? I've brought you lads something." His full swimming eyes veered to include John who stood very stiff and quiet beside his mother. "It or they rather, are in the courtyard, waiting for you."
"Oh what, what?" cried Tamkin jumping up and down.
"Go and see," said the merchant benevolently.
John and Harry gave him a restrained, considering look, but they went off with their excited little brother.
"My best hound bitch, Tiffany, has lately whelped," Sutton explained to Katherine, sitting down opposite her. "I've brought each of your lads a pup. The strain have the keenest noses in Lincolnshire."
"That's very good of you, Master Robert," said Katherine with sincere gratitude. The boys had no blooded hunting dogs, and made do with the Kettlethorpe mongrels.
"And I've brought Joan a yellow singing bird that came from the coast of Fez. She must keep it warm and tend it well."
"Ay - and thank you. It'll delight her," said Katherine.
He was not normally perceptive, but with regard to Katherine this middle-aged passion that had come to him made him observant. He saw a shadow in her lovely grey eyes, and a tightness about the mouth which still retained the curves of youth. He put his pudgy hand on his velvet-draped knees and leaning forward said anxiously, "What troubled you, just then, sweetheart?"
He is good, she thought, he is kind, if the boys are jealous they'll get over it. I'll say yes, but I must be frank with him in all things first.
"It was this," she said speaking with effort. "I had a child - once - who loved singing birds - Blanchette - -"
"To be sure, and I remember the little red-haired maid, years ago at Kettlethorpe," said Robert heartily. "Too bad she died, God rest her soul." Pity it wasn't one or more of the bastards died, he thought. Ah well, one must take the rough with the smooth.
As Katherine did not speak but gazed into the fire, he said on a brisker note, "You must forget the past. It does no good to brood."
"No, of course not." She turned and looked at him. At the sleek curls of beard on his well-fed jowls, at the network of tiny purple veins in his cheeks, at the heavy gold chain around his massive crimson velvet shoulders, at the badges of office on his arm - former mayor, member of Parliament, master woolmonger - at the heavy-lidded, slightly bloodshot eyes that answered her gaze with kindling eagerness.
"It does no good to brood," she repeated, "and I'll try to forget the past."
"I'll make you!" he cried thickly. "Katherine, you know what I've come to say. We're not children. You shall be Mistress Sutton. By God, you shall be mayor's wife next year - when Father's out and I'm re-elected. You shall hold your head up in this town, and be damned to all of them. They dare not gainsay a Sutton. I'll not say I haven't thought twice about it, and my father and brother - well, no need to go into that, they'll do what I tell 'em to. We Suttons stick together and they have to admit 'tis not as though you came to me penniless. Nay - I've shown 'em that the Beauforts are provided for, and you have property, a tidy parcel. You'll soon see how your manors'll flourish when I've full control. Not but what you've acted cleverly enough for a female. As you know, I was against your freeing the serfs - but it's not worked out so badly, I'll admit, long as they pay their rents. But you can get more out of the manors than you do. There's a new breed o' Cotswolds I shall try at Kettlethorpe, I think the pasturage near Foss-
dyke'd suit 'em and-" It occurred to him that, women being what they were, this was perhaps not the most effective of wooings. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, 'tis no secret to you that I've long wanted you in my bed, and if you'll come no other way, I'm willing to wed." Katherine laughed.
The merchant was divided between delight at the pretty sound of it and a natural annoyance.
"What's so funny?" he said stiffly. " 'Tis not, my dear, as though you had noble blood, to be sure you'll be plain Mistress Sutton, instead of 'Lady' - but I hardly think - -"
"Nay, nay - Master Robert," she put her hand on his knee, "I've no thought like that, I come of simple yeoman stock, and will be grateful to be Mistress Sutton - -"
"Then you will?" he cried. He lumbered to his feet and caught her up around the waist. He kissed her hotly, hard and insistent.
'Tis not so bad, she thought. He smelt of pomade and cloves; the feel of male strength and of desire, after so long a chastity, was not disagreeable. As he kissed her, her pulses quickened a little. Ay, I might learn to love him, at least enough - she thought. I shall try.
Next day the royal procession to the cathedral justified all Lincoln's hopes of gorgeousness, it also justified mounting rumours of Richard's unbridled extravagance, but today nobody bothered about that.
John Sutton, the mayor, in his scarlet robes came first, his aldermen followed, and the guild members with their banners, and the Church dignitaries, culminating in the bishop, ageing now, but as haughty, tight-mouthed and supercilious as ever. These were familiar sights to Lincoln and hardly worth standing out in the cold for; but the King and Queen and their retinue were another matter. Never had anyone imagined such a dazzle of cloth of gold, of pure silver tissue, such yards of ermine to trail in the muddy streets, such flashing of jewels.